Bill Bailey's Lot Page 6

  ‘Bill!’

  ‘Goodbye, love.’

  ‘Bye, my dear.’

  Having replaced the receiver she stood looking down at it. Would he do anything? She didn’t know.

  A short while later she went next door and was surprised to see Mrs Paget in the kitchen in her dressing gown.

  ‘Why are you up?’ she said. ‘You still look full of cold.’

  ‘Oh, it’s only the sniffles now, I’m much better. But Nell’s in bed. I came down to make a drink.’

  ‘Well, you go on back and I’ll see to the drink.’

  ‘No, my dear, no. I’ll tell you what you can do though, you can go up and have a talk with her. She’s…she’s in a bad way this morning.’

  ‘Do you think she should have the doctor?’

  ‘No, no; no doctor can cure what’s wrong with her at the moment. She’ll likely tell you herself.’ When she entered Nell’s room she saw that Nell was lying in the middle of the bed, her head almost buried under the clothes, and it wasn’t until she touched her shoulder and said, ‘You feeling awful?’ that Nell bounced round in the bed, saying, ‘Oh! Oh, it’s you, Fiona; I thought it was Mam. Yes. Yes, I’m feeling like nothing on earth this morning.’

  ‘Your face aching?’

  ‘Not…not as much as I’m aching in here.’ She pointed to her chest. Then, pulling herself up onto the pillow, she said, ‘Sit down.’ And at this Fiona sat down on the end of the bed, saying now, ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘Well, nothing I couldn’t have expected after what’s already happened, but when I heard it had, it hit me hard just the same. I suppose because I was feeling pretty low anyway. But I got a letter from a so-called friend this morning, it would have to come this morning, wouldn’t it?’ She made an effort to smile. ‘Harry’s woman has had another baby. It was a girl, born last Saturday. You know, Fiona’—she leant forward now—‘although I knew what was coming with the first one and that’s why he left me—perhaps he might have left me in any case, but that made him put a spurt on—when I read that letter I was overcome by the most frightful feeling. You know, if he had been near me, I…I—’ She moved her head slowly and closed her eyes and swallowed deeply before she went on, ‘I could really have killed him. For a second I longed just to have a knife in my hand to stab the air and pretend he was there. All those years humbling myself, making myself a doormat just so that he would soften up and give me a child. That’s all I wanted. I could have forgiven him anything, his selfishness, his laziness—he was lazy—he had such an imagination he should have been writing books—but I could have forgotten all that and looked upon him as the best man in the world if he had only given me the chance to have a child. I mightn’t have been able to carry one, or have one, but…but no, he always saw to it that there were no slip-ups. When I accepted the idea that he couldn’t stand children, as he said, and there was no possible hope for me ever being satisfied in that way, I still had to put up with being a wife to him. God!’ She turned her head on the pillow now and looked away from Fiona. ‘The indignities that one has to suffer, the degradation. I thought I’d hit rock bottom when after all that I heard he’d got another woman pregnant before leaving me; but this latest news makes it even worse. To give her a second one in scarcely more time than nature allows; that really is adding insult to injury.’

  When Fiona pulled her gently into her arms, Nell laid her head on her shoulder, and with tears in her voice she said, ‘What I would have done all these months if it hadn’t been for you and that horde next door and the big fella, but mostly you, God alone knows. Mam and Dad are good people and they haven’t a good word for him, but he was their son, so I couldn’t let go in front of them, they were suffering enough. But to know that you were there…’

  ‘Nell, listen to me.’ Fiona pressed Nell from her, and now she was wagging her finger into her face: ‘Bert Ormesby is a good man, he’s an attractive man and a sober fellow, as you know. He’s got a nice house, everything all ready, and the main thing is, he’s more than sweet on you. But he’s shy inside; as Bill says, he’s had no dealings with women; but it’s evident that he wants dealings with you. But from what I can gather you’ve kept him at arm’s length. And I can understand it. But you’ve got your divorce, you’re free, and there’s still time enough for you to have a baby.’

  ‘What, heading forty?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s happening every day.’

  ‘Not with the first one.’

  ‘Yes; with the first one. They do wonders now, Caesareans, and all kinds of things. Anyway, first things first; let him know that he’s free to speak. You know something? I’m sick of him coming next door to make excuses to see Bill about this and that which could be done at work, and the look on his face when he finds you’ve just gone.’

  Nell lay back now on the pillows and, wiping her face gently with her handkerchief, she said, ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Don’t think too long. And what’s more, don’t lie there crying your eyes about him. Because I’ll tell you something: that young mother will get her eyes opened before long.’

  ‘Oh, I hope so. I’m being vindictive, I know, but I do, I hope she sees what she’s taken on when she has practically two babies on her hands. You know, he would never do a thing in this house, wouldn’t lift his hand to dry a cup. That was his mother’s fault, I suppose. No, no; it wasn’t, he was born lazy. And there’s his father just the opposite, always frantically doing something.’

  ‘Well, anyway’—Fiona rose from the bed—‘get yourself up, that is if your face is not paining too much. Come the weekend, go to the hairdresser and get your hair styled; it’s like a dog’s tail at the back. It’s lovely hair but it will look better if it’s trimmed. And put a bit of make-up on. You never wear make-up.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs B. You know, in a way, you’re as bossy as Bill. The only thing is, your voice is not quite so loud; but that’ll come I suppose.’ Fiona flapped her hand towards Nell, then said, ‘I’m off to do some baking. That freezer was packed this time last week with pies, cakes and what not, and now it’s almost bare. Oh, I’ve got something to tell you, but not now because you can’t laugh properly with a face like that. You know, I told you last night about our first visitor; he was Mr Samuel Love. Well, we had him return with his father later. The little devil had pinched a spoon, you know, the one with the coat of arms on the top.’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘Yes. But I’ll tell you all about it later. Now come on, get up out of that.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am; and I’ll be in shortly.’

  ‘You needn’t bother being in shortly, except for a drink; there’s nothing to do and, as your mother-in-law says, dust eats no bread.’

  ‘I’ve just made the coffee,’ said Mrs Paget as Fiona went into the kitchen, and Fiona answered, ‘I won’t stay, dear. Anyway, Nell’s getting up.’

  ‘She is?’

  ‘Yes; she feels better.’

  ‘Oh, thanks Fiona. You always do her good.’ Then her head drooping, she said, ‘Have you ever thought, Fiona, that you might one day dislike one of your sons?’

  ‘No. No, I couldn’t think that way.’

  ‘Well, it’s possible. Oh yes, it’s possible. And at this moment my feeling for my son goes deeper than dislike. He had one of the best girls in the world. She had one fault, only one, she didn’t stand up to him; and she could have because she’s not without spunk, but she kept hoping that if she gave him his own way he’d give her what she wanted, the only thing she wished for in the world.’

  ‘There’s still time, Mrs Paget; she could get her wish yet.’

  ‘You mean…Mr Ormesby?’

  ‘Yes, I mean Mr Ormesby. It all depends on her; I’m sure he’s willing.’

  ‘Oh then, please God, something will come of it. She deserves a little happiness. And I understand from what she says he’s a churchman?’

  ‘Yes, he is.’

  ‘There’s not many about these days. More�
��s the pity. You’re sure you won’t stay and have a cup?’

  ‘No thanks, dear. I’m going to get down to some baking. I’ll be seeing you.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’

  As she walked up her own garden Fiona wondered yet again how a nice couple like those two could have such a stinker of a son…

  After tidying up she eventually got round to her baking, and by three o’clock she had cleared away and was about to get ready to go and fetch Mamie when there was a knock on the back door. And when she opened it she was surprised to see the man who had been the topic of conversation between Nell and her earlier on.

  ‘Oh, hello, Bert.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Bailey.’

  The tall, rather gangling fellow moved from one foot to the other, then quickly explained his presence by saying, ‘I just called round to see if Nell was…well, all right, after her teeth, you know. I…I was just quite near at Mrs Vidler’s seeing to her electric…her electric light, you know.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve been to my mother’s?’

  ‘Yes. Yes; the boss said the old lady was without light and…and, as I said to myself, it’s not so far away’—he made a motion with his hand indicating the short distance—‘and knowing what Nell had been going…through with her toothache…’

  ‘Come in a minute, Bert.’

  ‘Oh, well, Mrs Bailey, the boss’ll be expecting me. But all right, just a minute.’

  Two long strides brought him just within the door, and Fiona said, ‘I was just about to get ready to go and pick Mamie up from school.’

  ‘Oh aye; she’s at school now. They do grow, don’t they?’

  Fiona made no comment on this, but said, ‘Nell hasn’t been across today; she hasn’t been feeling at all well…’

  ‘It’s those teeth of hers, they do play her up.’

  ‘Bert, it isn’t her teeth at the moment that’s making her feel…well, off colour.’

  ‘No?’ He stared at her and waited, but Fiona did not go on straight away to explain what was making Nell unwell, for she was questioning herself if she would be doing the right thing in playing Cupid. But she felt that if one or other wasn’t given a push the situation could meander on, then fizzle out. As it was now, the situation lay between a shy man and a woman who was afraid to be hurt again.

  ‘Of course, you know, Bert, that Nell is divorced?’

  ‘Oh yes. Aye, I know she’s divorced. And I think the fella must have been blind or daft.’

  ‘He was neither blind nor daft, Bert, but he was cruel. Perhaps what you don’t know is that he left Nell because he had got…well, the girl into trouble, as the term is.’

  ‘Aye; well, it’s generally the way.’

  ‘But not in this case, Bert. You see Nell had always wanted children and her husband was adamant that there would be no children of the marriage. He couldn’t stand children; he didn’t like children et cetera. So, for thirteen years Nell lived in frustration. But imagine what she felt like when she knew why he had left her. And then this morning she got a letter from, as she says, some kind of friend who told her that another child was born on Saturday and that it was a girl. She had always wanted a girl. I’m…I’m telling you this, Bert, because…well, Nell never would. And I think you are fond of her, aren’t you?’

  She watched him wet his lips, then gulp in his throat before he said, ‘Yes; yes, I’m fond of her. I’ve never been fond of anybody before. I mean, I’ve never felt about anybody like I have her. For one thing…well, I can talk to her; I don’t feel all at sixes and sevens. And thank you, thank you, Mrs Bailey, for puttin’ me in the picture. I’m a stupid individual, you know, thick.’ He dabbed his forehead with his finger, and at this Fiona smiled and said, ‘You’re neither stupid nor thick, Bert; you’re a very caring man, and Nell needs someone to care for her in a special way. We all love her, but that isn’t enough.’

  ‘D’you think she’d have me?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask her? Why not call in tonight and see how she is?’

  He turned from her now and pulled open the door, then he paused on the step for a moment before turning and looking at her again. He said quietly, ‘Thanks, ma’am.’

  ‘Bert. Call me Mrs B, will you?’

  She watched his face go into a wide grin and he said, ‘Willingly, Mrs B, willingly. And again, thanks.’

  She watched him bring his bicycle from the wall and hitch himself down to the back garden gate which made him look like an overgrown schoolboy from behind.

  She had picked the two girls up from their separate schools. She’d had to wait fifteen minutes for Katie. There had been a rehearsal for the chorus of the concert the school was putting on, and now she was sitting in the passenger seat describing with some elation to her mother that she had also been chosen to do a walking-on part. She had four lines to say, then toss her head and walk off; and she was about to deliver the lines yet once again, and with actions, when she turned her head and exclaimed, ‘There’s Willie! And Sammy’s with him.’

  Fiona pulled up sharply, and, her head out of the window, she called to the two meandering backs, ‘Willie!’

  At this Willie came running back towards the car. Sammy’s approach was a little slower, but nevertheless he was at the window when Fiona, addressing her son, said, ‘Well, get in.’

  ‘OK,’ said Willie now, and, turning to Sammy, he pushed him towards the back door of the car, saying, ‘Well, get in.’

  Fiona was forced to return the glance that her daughter was casting on her now while Mamie was greeting Willie in her usual enthusiastic way: ‘Willie, I’ve made a box to put my beads in,’ to which Willie’s retort was, ‘Move along.’

  ‘Hello, boy.’ Mamie was now addressing the newcomer; but Master Sammy Love gave her no reply.

  ‘Sammy’s dad says he can stay to tea, Mam.’

  Fiona said nothing. She started up the car, but she did so with a jerk. And when her son’s voice came at her on a high laugh, saying, ‘You’ll be all right, Mam, once you’ve passed your test,’ she exclaimed loudly, ‘Willie!’ and the tone seemed to be sufficiently meaningful to silence the backseat passengers, at least, for the moment.

  ‘Don’t forget, Mam, that Mark’s going to tea straight from school with Roland Featherstone.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten, Katie.’

  ‘Well, I just thought you might have.’

  ‘Mam’—Willie’s head was on Fiona’s shoulder—‘Sammy says his dad says he can come to tea whenever he likes.’

  Fiona allowed a number of seconds to pass before she said, ‘Oh, did he?’

  Then before Willie could confirm his statement Sammy’s voice came loud and strident, ‘But that’s only if you asked me, missis; and I hadn’t to ask, I had to wait.’

  Katie’s giggle was audible, and Fiona muttered at her, ‘That’s enough!’ Then, in a clear voice she said, ‘Well, Sammy, you may come to tea now and again, let’s say…er, once a week.’

  ‘Fair enough. Ta. I know where I am now.’

  ‘Which night, Mam?’ There was a disappointed note in Willie’s voice.

  ‘We’ll make it a Friday, the day after tomorrow. Will that suit you, Sammy?’ There was a note of sarcasm in her tone, and Sammy answered, ‘Aye, I suppose so…ta.’

  Because she was endeavouring to negotiate a corner, Fiona could not put her hand out and slap Katie who had swung round on her seat and, addressing Sammy, had said, ‘When can Willie go to your house for tea?’

  And she was slightly taken aback when the answer came, ‘Any day, except a Thursday like. ’Tisn’t posh like your place, but he can come.’

  Katie could find nothing to say to this; but when her mother pointedly said quietly to her, ‘I’ll have a talk with you when we get home,’ she gave a grunt and slid further down into the seat.

  Fiona had just got them settled round the table and all munching away, Willie doing the most talking, when the phone rang.

  It was her mother’s voice that greeted her, saying, as us
ual, ‘Fiona?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  There was a pause before Mrs Vidler’s voice came again, prim-sounding and definitely reluctant with thanks. ‘Well, he sent a man round and I must say that his men could teach others quite a lot in civility. He was a very nice and well-spoken man. I’ll remember to send for him if I ever have any need in that way again.’

  ‘He works for my husband, Mother. You seem to forget that.’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t forget that. I asked him what they were working on now and he said they were building two houses. And when I asked him what they were doing after he said that it was all up in the air. And I could have told him that for I get around, and from what I hear there are twenty firms in for Sir Charles Kingdom’s estate. Whoever gets that will be made; it’s bound to go to an experienced builder, I mean a well-established firm. So, have you thought, Fiona, what you would do then?’

  Fiona stared hard into the mouthpiece before she said, ‘Go on the dole, Mother; and we’ll live as we did before Bill came on the scene, three years from hand to mouth when you didn’t offer a crumb to help me. But, there’ll be one difference now, Mother, I’ll be happy, we’ll be happy. We’ll all be happy. And lastly, Mother, I want to tell you, you are the most un…’—her voice rose now—‘the most ungrateful creature I’ve ever come across in my life.’

  The phone was quite used to being banged down; nevertheless, she kept her hand on it, once it was on the stand, as if she had hurt it and regretted her action. But her mother…that woman simply got her goat. Was there another mother on earth like her, so ungrateful and so determined to infiltrate any unhappiness she could into her life? It was jealousy, pure and simple jealousy. But how could a mother be so jealous of a daughter? There must be other mothers like her. If she only knew them, it would be a help because at times she felt there couldn’t be anyone quite as vicious as the woman who had borne her. Yet there were times when she had heard people actually say to her, ‘Oh, your mother is such a nice person. She has such a gentle manner.’ Gentle manner indeed! She now marched up the stairs and into her bedroom where she flopped down into a chair and pressed her hands between her knees, as she had often done as a child when things had got the better of her; and she was amazed to hear herself praying aloud: ‘Oh, dear God, let Bill get that contract. If it’s only to show her. Please! Please! And it’s so important to Bill. It’s the most important thing in his life.’