Page 32 of A Family Affair
I didn’t allow myself to think about not being home for Christmas morning. Instead I held Joseph tightly and stroked his face, marvelling at the peach-soft feel of his skin and wishing he’d wake up so I could feed him. I told myself not to worry. That he was content, snuggled in the pillow, cocooned in my arms while the heat from my body kept him warm. Hoping my heartbeat made him feel safe.
I didn’t feel safe, though. I wanted my mam. I wanted to ask her what to do and if it was normal for Joseph not to feed. I wanted to go home.
I think that maybe part of the roof above us had collapsed because I could smell burning and hear the sirens outside more clearly. That’s probably why I heard the bomb before I felt the aftermath.
It whistled and whined, a horrid sound that tormented me as it approached, like a school bully heading across the playground in my direction. I imagined the tip pointing downwards seeking out a target and prayed so hard and held Joseph tighter, scrunching my eyes as I waited for it to hit.
It was like I imagine an earthquake to feel. The ground beneath me rumbling on impact, and then above me objects falling on the bed, splattering it with debris. A creaking and groaning, like a monster awakened from a cave or a giant, straining to hold the weight of a beam, the burden pressing down on his shoulders. And then he gave in.
Something very close had collapsed. I knew because it sounded as though someone was hurling bricks onto the bed and two or three made their way under the mattress and hit my legs. Then the dust. Again instinct kicked in and I pulled my coat over our heads and around us, using it as a shield, like a tent, trapping the remaining clean air inside.
I waited. I held my baby. For how long I don’t know. For the dust to settle and the bricks to stop falling. The stories from the women in the shop came back to haunt me. I was petrified that the whole roof and ceiling would come down and we’d be buried alive. That fire would ravage what was left of the hospital. Thoughts, none of them good, swept through my mind like poison.
Then after a time the room seemed to quiet and settle. There was still the odd creak and groan, muffled noise from outside became confused with that within. Cries for help, sirens, fire and ambulance, voices that came and went. It was the darkness I hated the most and then later, a new noise. A baby cried.
Not Joseph, he was still and quiet in my arms. And then the sound of someone coughing, close by. I realised it must have been whoever was on the other side of the partition. It lifted my spirits somewhat to know I wasn’t totally alone, so I called out. ‘Hello, are you all right? Can you hear me?’
There was nothing for a moment and then a voice, weak, female. ‘Yes, yes I can hear you.’ She sounded nicely spoken, not like me.
The baby cried and I wondered when she’d had it, perhaps before I came in. And then because I wanted to talk to someone, a mother in the absence of my own who could perhaps give me courage I asked, ‘Is your baby all right? Is it a boy or a girl?’
Nothing again, and when she did speak I sensed it was with difficulty and I became scared that something had fallen on her, so laboured was her voice.
‘Yes, he seems fine. I need to feed him, but I don’t feel very well.’
SuddenlyIbecame mother and tried to offer advice, remembering our Linda feeding her brood each time one came along. ‘Can you put him to your breast. I think he’ll work it out for himself.’
In the silence that followed my mind wandered to Joseph who had shown no such inclination when I’d tried earlier, and a tingle of fear prickled my skin. Absorbed by the surrounding noise it was hard to hear if she was moving but my hopes lifted when the baby stopped grizzling and she finally spoke.
‘I did it. He’s feeding…’
Something told me that I needed to keep her talking, whoever she was, so while I snuggled under my coat-tent, not wanting to suck in dusty air, I did my best to chivvy her along. She must only have been feet away from me and the urge to reach out my hand and take hers, was immense.
‘What’s your name, love? Mine’s Molly.’
The waiting seemed like forever and then, ‘Nora.’
‘Hello Nora. And what’s your little one called? Is he named after his dad? Mine’s overseas in the army. Where’s your old man? I bet he’ll be proud as punch to see his little lad. I know my Walter will be.’ The nervous gift-of-the-gab had possessed me, so I told myself to shut up and give Nora chance to speak. I soon wished I’d kept talking.
‘His father’s dead… but I know he’s watching over him…’
I gasped. The tears came quickly but I forbade a sob. I had to be strong for all of us. That’s what everyone said you had to do. Stick together at times like that. ‘Oh you poor love. But your family will be pleased, especially his daddy’s side and he’ll remind them of your husband. That’s a good thing.’
It was then that I heard her crying, so loud that it cut through everything going on around us. ‘Oh love, don’t cry. It’ll be all right. We’re going to get out of here I promise.’
I don’t know why I said such a stupid thing and it reminded me of the promise Mam made before they carted me off to hospital and I instantly regretted it. Like I’d tempted fate and Mam had, too.
I pushed my coat away so I could hear better, still shielding Joseph underneath I listened. Within seconds my nose was invaded by dust, and I began to cough as my airways filled with the stuff. My face felt grimy and dry, and my eyes stung and watered but finally, once my coughing ceased, to my great relief, Nora spoke.
Just hearing the voice of a human close by gave me such comfort until her words sank in.
‘We’re not married.’ A pause, and it must have taken such courage to say the next bit. ‘And my family have disowned me. I’m in disgrace. I wouldn’t get rid of my baby or have him adopted so my father told me never to darken his door. I have nobody. Not anymore. It’s just me and my baby.’
All I could think of, right at that time was how lucky I was to have a husband, far away but – God willing – alive. A good mam and dad waiting at home for me and baby Joseph. Even our Linda and her lot, and Walter’s annoying parents were bearable while just across the way, was a woman and her child with nobody at all. The gift of the gab took hold once more.
‘Well you’ve got someone now. Me. When we get out of here you can come to ours. It’s only small and nowt fancy but we can squash in together till you get sorted. And my mam and sister will look after you, too. We can all muck in and our little lads will grow up best friends. It’s going to be alright. I’ll take care of you, Nora… you’re not on your own no more.’
This time, when she spoke Nora sounded a tiny bit stronger but at the same time disbelieving. ‘You’d do that for me. A total stranger?’
