The Favourite Child (5 page)

‘Then ye’d best keep it that way.’ And Billy Quinn returned to conducting his business as usual.

Mrs Stobbs had tried Gregory powder, liquorice, Fenning’s Little Healers and California Syrup of Figs on her eldest, yet still the child complained of stomach ache and pains in her head. She also had no appetite and was sufficiently flushed to indicate a temperature. Bella was fast coming to the conclusion that a doctor should be called, yet knew she’d have a hard job persuading the mother of this fact. Doctors cost money and with nine other children to care for, Mrs Stobbs had little enough to spare.

As if reading Bella’s mind she said, ‘My friend Gladys give me this tonic for her to try. That’s all she needs. A pick-me-up.’ Mrs Stobbs went on to explain how she’d already tried rubbing the child’s chest with vinegar and goose fat, administered a purgative to clear the bowels and purify the blood as well as wrapping a stocking soaked in tea leaves about her sore throat. All to no avail.

Bella was privately of the opinion that the awfulness of their surroundings may have something to do with the ill health of the children, that and the fact they all lived in this one room; the whole family sleeping together in one, not over-large, bed. Bugs fell from the ceiling, damp soaked through the walls, a pitiful fire burned in the grate. Only the newspaper covering the shelves and small wooden table were put on clean every day, thanks to Mr Stobbs fondness for the
Evening News
. This was Mrs Stobbs idea of hygiene.

Bella examined the bottle which claimed to contain an ‘elixir for good health and a strengthener of the blood.’ Taking off the glass stopper she sniffed. A noxious aroma assailed her and she screwed up her nose in disgust. ‘You’ll never get Lizzie to take this. It smells revolting.’

Mrs Stobbs almost snatched the bottle from her grasp and began searching the cluttered table for a spoon. ‘She’ll take it if she knows what’s good fer her.’

Bella drew a spoon from her bag and rubbed it clean on her pocket handkerchief. There was no sink or water in the house and she quailed at using the contents of the jug set by the bed. ‘I still think a doctor would be best, Mrs Stobbs. She’s running a fever.’

Bottle poised over the spoon the woman glanced across at the child huddled in the chair by a puny fire, her gaze haunted, filled with pain and fear. Lizzie was ten years old now and surely past the most dangerous stages of childhood. Besides, she was a grand help to her mother with the little ones. How would she manage without her? The hand that held the spoon began to tremble and Bella gently took it from her. ‘Here, let me. I’ll see if I can get her to take it. The label says it’s made from seaweed so the iron in that might well be of benefit. But if her temperature hasn’t come down by morning, I shall bring the doctor myself, Mrs Stobbs, and pay for him too if need be.’

Two fat tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks but she made no move to wipe them away, since this would require energy she didn’t possess.

Recognising her exhaustion, Bella said, ‘Maybe you should try a spoon or two of this yourself. You could do with a tonic too. It’s been one thing after another lately, what with all of them going down with sniffles and coughs.’

Mrs Stobbs shook her head. Precious medicine was not to be wasted on tired adults when there were sick children in the house.

‘Thanks for your concern Bella luv, but we can manage now.’

‘I wish I could do more. I’m no doctor and my knowledge of medicine is so inadequate. But I’ll be back tomorrow to see how she is.’

Once out on the pavement she couldn’t help heaving a sigh, partly from relief at escaping the sweet-sour stink of poverty but also out of a sad resignation, for Bella knew well enough what would happen next. No doctor would ever be permitted over the threshold. Some quack or other would be found, the child dosed till she either revived by sheer good luck or will power or, alternatively, succumb to the inevitable.

Mrs Stobbs, hovering on her none-too-clean doorstep, half glanced back over her shoulder then drew the door almost closed behind her in a bid for further privacy before beckoning Bella to come closer. Bella could almost taste the woman’s foul breath but didn’t turn away as the whisper came in her ear. ‘I reckon I’m off again.’

‘Lord, no. The baby is only - what? Five months?’

‘Six!’ As if that made all the difference. ‘He only has to drop his trousers and I’m up the spout.’

‘I thought the doctor said you were to have no more children?’

‘Aye, he did. But he never told me how to stop ‘em coming, did he?’ Now she glanced up and down the street and Bella, heart already sinking with despair at this dreadful piece of news, began to feel utterly inadequate for the task facing her. Besides four miscarriages, (at least two of which may have been procured) and one stillbirth, caused through fright according to her husband and exhaustion in Bella’s opinion, Mrs Stobbs had almost died following her last confinement. It had taken weeks of careful nursing after the birth to get her well again. Even so, she’d run out of milk to feed the latest addition and the baby had never thrived. Bella brought what beneficial food she could for the child, but it rarely showed interest and spent much of its day in a sort of half-starved stupor.

‘That’s what I wanted to ask. I don’t like to put this on you, Bella love, a young lass like yerself, but ‘oo else can I ask? Doctor won’t talk about such matters to the likes of me, so I thought happen you’d find out what’s what for me.’

‘What’s what?’ Bella frowned, feeling utterly bemused.

‘You know.
How to stop ‘em coming
.’ These words were hissed in an undertone, partly because women’s matters were never referred to directly, but also because abortion was not only illegal but hopelessly confused with contraception. To make matters worse, the Catholic church was utterly opposed to family limitation in any form, save for what was considered natural. So you couldn’t be too careful. ‘He’s not a bad husband, as husbands go, but careless, if you take my meaning? Particularly after he’s been on the booze. Don’t say owt now. Walls have ears. Just find out for me what I can do to stop it happening again, then I can go and get myself sorted.’ Then the door slammed shut in Bella’s astonished face.

‘Anyone would think I was some sort of miracle worker, the things they expect of me,’ Bella complained volubly to Mrs Dyson as she sat in that good woman’s kitchen later in the afternoon, hands warming around a mug of tea. ‘Where am I, a single young woman, going to find out about birth control? I’m not even supposed to appreciate such matters exist. And I can hardly ask Mother, can I? Or Pa. Perhaps the vicar could tell me? He seems to have an opinion on most things.’

Mrs Dyson chortled softly as she munched on her best shortbread, interspersed with scalding sips of strong tea. ‘Eeh lass, you have a wicked sense of humour. I’m sure you’ll find a way, Miss Bella. You always do.’

‘How? What I know about sex, which is precious little, I’ve learned from you, my dearest friend. Mother has never uttered a word on the subject. I think she imagines that I still believe in the existence of the stork. But I think this one has got even me beat, for all I’d love to find some way to prevent women like poor Mrs Stobbs and young Jinnie upstairs from feeling driven to take such risks with their lives.’

‘You could always read that book by that doctor woman. Whatzername. Marie Stopes.’

‘Marie Stopes?’ Bella considered Mrs Dyson with surprised interest, brow creased with thought. The name had a familiar ring to it, but she couldn’t place just how or where she’d heard of it. ‘What book?’

‘
Married Love
. It caused quite a stir when it come out a few years back. Letters in the paper, in the House of Commons, various archbishops, the whole shebang accusing her of ‘pandering to depraved sexual instincts’, just because she’d told in a book how a woman can plan when she has childer, instead of them coming of their own free will like. But don’t ask me what it says the answer is. I’ve been a widow too long to care about such matters. She’s written another since, I believe, and opened a clinic in London to help in a more practical way, to teach women what to do.’

‘Clinic? Book? Mrs D, you are, as ever, a treasure store of fascinating information. What would I do without you?’

‘Go hungry?’ the cook said, passing her another slice of shortbread.

But Bella refused a second piece. She found it hard to eat after one of her visiting afternoons. ‘I must go and see our patient. How is she?’

‘Aye well, you’ve got another miracle to perform upstairs. That young madam has slept the clock round but is asking for you good and loud now, and she’s not prepared to hang around waiting much longer. She’s been making her demands felt since dinner time, itching to be off back to wherever she come from. And in my view, it’d happen be no bad thing to let her.’

‘Oh Mrs D, don’t you join the opposition too. You’re my best mate.’ And Bella put her arms about the plump figure and gave the old cook an affectionate hug.

‘Go on with you, smarmy miss.’ Pink cheeked, Mrs Dyson pushed her gently away and started to ladle broth into a warmed dish. ‘She hasn’t eaten a thing in the whole twenty-four hours she’s been here, so happen you can persuade her to try a morsel of me best pea broth. It’ll set her up grand.’

‘Not eaten? But that’s appalling. How will she ever get well if she doesn’t eat?’

‘How indeed. You can explain all of that to her. A bath would do her no harm neither. I’ve tried to persuade her but given it up as a bad job. She’ll happen listen to you.’

It was clear to Bella the moment she entered the room that Jinnie wasn’t in the mood to listen to anyone. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her stick-like limbs and lacklustre skin as white as the sheets yet her determination to leave only too evident. ‘Where are me clothes?’ she demanded, her voice high pitched, almost querulous with anxiety. ‘I don’t know where the ‘ell I am, but you’ve no right to kidnap me and fetch me here. ‘Who do you think you are?’

The eyes, Bella noticed, were dark as chocolate with long curling lashes but there was still evidence of violet bruises beneath each. The soft, pale mouth trembled slightly, revealing that the girl wasn’t very far from tears despite the tendency of the top lip to curl upwards in derision. Certainly there was not a sign of the anticipated gratitude.

Bella’s reply was gentle, couched in soothing tones. ‘I was only trying to help. You nearly died.’

The girl tossed back thick skeins of brown hair as if she were proud of its greasy lankness. ‘Well, that would’ve been my choice, wouldn’t it? Happen it would’ve been no great loss.’

‘Oh, don’t say that. No one should be left in the state you were in when I found you. It was me who took you to the hospital in the first place, so when they almost turned you out on the street the minute you woke up, I felt responsible.’

‘Well you needn’t. No one’s responsible for me. I can look after meself, ta very much.’ As if to prove this, she got to her feet, wobbling slightly as she glanced frantically about her. ‘Where’s me bleedin’ clothes?’

‘I’m sorry, I’ve burnt them.’

The expression of outrage on Jinnie’s face was terrible to behold. Tension vibrated through every weakened muscle and Bella almost flinched, thinking the girl was about to fly at her with claws outstretched like a frightened cat. ‘You’ve
burnt
them? How can you have burnt them? ‘Who give you the
right
?’

‘I’m sorry. I can find you some fresh. You’re welcome to some of mine.’

‘I don’t need no charity.’

If the poor child hadn’t looked so dreadfully woebegone and deadly serious, Bella would have laughed at the incongruity of such a brave statement. Instead she attempted to placate, gently reminding her that the clothes had been covered in blood, whereupon Jinnie bit her lip, shocked into silence at last by the appalling truth of what she had done.

‘Wait there,’ And Bella disappeared next door to her own bedroom, rummaging through her capacious wardrobe to return moments later with a good tweed skirt, blouse and jumper, plus various pieces of underwear, including a pair of warm woollen stockings and stout shoes.