her, ‘No, nineteen – it’s my birthday.’
The woman raised her eyebrows and offered, ‘Many happy returns.’
Nell thanked her, knowing there would be few congratulations from her parents. Then, as the other made to leave, she enquired quickly, ‘How long must I stay in bed?’
‘Well, you’d usually be there ten days …’ the woman was quick to deter Nell’s look of horror, ‘but they’re letting them up more or less straight away in case of air raids, so it might not be that long.’ She smiled, and left.
Intermittently dozing, the next thing Nell was aware of was being bumped by trolley to a ward that stank of kidneys, full of elderly patients who were too busy eating their breakfast to concern themselves with her. For some reason, certainly not from kindness, once she was in bed a screen was immediately pulled around it, and, shortly after this, her own breakfast was served. Brought by the intransigent midwife who had also delivered her, Nell chose not to ask her the time, but guessed it must be somewhere between six thirty and seven o’clock. Though agitated to hold her baby, she ate everything before her, then sat back and listened to the sounds of the old folk, imagining what must be going on at home, and wondering if her parents would ever forgive her.
Therefore, it was a surprise when, immediately after her empty tray was removed, her mother and father appeared around the screen, accompanied by Doctor Greenhow. Obviously not to wish her a happy birthday. Dressed in his business suit, her father was still furious, and did not trust himself to speak, all parties looking shell-shocked by the events of the last twelve hours, and grossly uncomfortable at being there.
Her mother did speak, but remained aloof. ‘Doctor’s arranged for you to be looked after at home.’
Flooded with relief at being accorded this token of forgiveness, Nell gushed tearfully, ‘Oh, Mother, I’m so sorry I’ve put you and Father through –’
‘What’s done is done,’ interrupted her mother, who had brought along Nell’s coat and shoes. ‘Now, let’s get ourselves organised. Doctor’s brought some paperwork for you to sign, then we can leave here.’ Her attitude was one of distaste.
Nell shifted position to ease her throbbing genitals, propping herself up with one arm whilst taking the form with her other hand. She was immediately suspicious. ‘But this says – Mother, I don’t want him adopted!’ Her heart had begun to race.
‘Just sign it!’ commanded her father, hat in hand, eager to get away.
‘Please, can’t I keep him?’ entreated Nell.
‘Stop making such a song and dance,’ hissed her mother, embarrassed and tetchy as she looked over her shoulder to check that no one could overhear. ‘It’s going to be difficult enough getting you into the house without the neighbours prying.’
‘But –’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Eleanor! For heaven’s sake you are eighteen years old, what possessed you to ruin your life?’
‘I’m nineteen!’ Nell was dismayed that her mother seemed to have forgotten. ‘It’s my birthday – and it doesn’t have to be ruined!’
‘Oh, I’m well aware of what day it is!’ The response was brittle. ‘It’s you who are living in Cloud Cuckoo Land. You were stupid enough to get yourself into this, but even you can’t be so dim-witted as not to realise what dire straits you’d be in should you attempt to bring it up yourself.’
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