don’t know, sling him in the Thames or dump him in the park. Just get rid of it. I can’t afford another mouth to feed, not with you bleeding me dry.’
With that, her mother turned her grubby body to the wall, leaving Sarah bereft. She gently rocked the baby in her arms, and Mrs Brown’s words came into her head again. She’d said her mother had murdered her last child. Maybe it was true, as she now wanted Sarah to do the same to this one.
Sarah huddled on her mattress in the opposite corner of the room from her mother, and gently cooed at her brother in her arms. She’d wrapped a blanket around him now, but it hadn’t pacified his crying. Now she worried that his screams would wake her mother, who was snoring loudly, and she started tapping her finger and thumb together. ‘You’re hungry, little one. What are we going to do with you, eh?’ she whispered.
Though it was early evening, Sarah hoped her mum would stay asleep, but knew that even if she did it would only be a short reprieve. All hell would break loose when she woke to find that Sarah hadn’t got rid of the baby. Still trying to hush her little brother, she rose to her feet and quietly left their flat, to walk along the corridor to knock on her best friend’s door. Jenny was thirteen, the same age as Sarah, in the same class at school, and Sarah inwardly prayed that as she was appealing for the baby, Jenny’s mother wouldn’t turn her away.
‘Hello, Jenny, I couldn’t ask a big favour, could I?’ Sarah pleaded when her friend opened the door. Jenny was short for her age, and her blonde hair and blue eyes gave her a baby-faced appearance, making her look much younger than Sarah.
‘What have you got there? Your mum had the baby then?’ Jenny asked as she craned her neck to peer into the bundle Sarah was holding.
‘Yeah, a little boy. Thing is, my mum’s worn out and she’s asleep, but I can’t stop this little blighter from crying. Could I cadge a bit of your mum’s formula and a bottle, only ’til the morning? I’ll bring it back, I swear.’
‘Come in, you can ask her yourself,’ Jenny replied and opened the door wider. ‘So what’s he called?’
Sarah looked at her brother and it occurred to her he didn’t have a name. ‘Er … Tommy. His name’s Tommy Jepson.’
‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ Jenny said as they walked into the kitchen. ‘Mum, Mrs Jepson’s had her baby, a little boy called Tommy.’
Jenny’s mum’s expression was stern, and four small faces peered at Sarah from around the kitchen table. The flat had the luxury of four rooms, but as Jenny had five siblings it still felt cramped and overcrowded, yet warm and cosy. If Jenny’s dad was home, Sarah wouldn’t have been invited in, but now, as she stood in the kitchen, she wished her flat was like her friend’s. It always smelled of freshly baked bread, unlike the damp smell that greeted Sarah in her flat.
Sarah’s eyes quickly scanned the room, and she spied the tin bath under the kitchen workbench. She’d have loved to soak herself in hot water, but instead had to make do with a shivering strip wash at her small kitchen sink. Jenny was so lucky to have a dad, she thought, as her stomach grumbled at the sight of bowls of stew in front of the little faces sitting at the table.
‘Stop standing there gawping, girl. I suppose your mother’s sent you down here on the cadge for something?’ Mrs Turner said. She was a plump woman, and short like her daughter, but Sarah knew she ruled over her household and kept her brood in order.
‘Er … sorry, but Mum’s a bit poorly, and the baby needs feeding …’ Sarah nervously answered.
‘Poorly my arse! More like passed out drunk,’ Mrs Turner snapped.
Sarah felt ashamed and lowered her head. Everyone on the estate knew her mother had a drinking problem, and they also knew she’d sell herself for a jug of beer or a bottle of gin.
‘I’m sorry, love, it ain’t your fault,’ Mrs Turner said, her tone softening. ‘I can’t see the poor mite go hungry, but you tell your mother this is the last time I’ll help her out.’
Sarah had found it hard to bring herself to ask for food, without the added degrading comments about her mother, but felt a surge of relief.
‘I don’t suppose your mum’s got anything in for the baby, has she?’
‘Erm … er … no, Mrs Turner, she hasn’t,’ Sarah answered, and could feel her cheeks burning red with discomfiture.
‘The woman’s a disgrace. I don’t know what she’d do without you. Jenny, get a bowl of stew for Sarah. I doubt you’ve had your tea, have you?’
‘I … er—’ Sarah said but was quickly interrupted.
‘No, I thought not. Jenny, take the baby while I sort out a few things for him. Bloody good job I’ve not long had one of my own!’
Sarah took a seat at the large wooden table and ate hungrily, gratefully savouring every mouthful of the warm stew. She didn’t care that Jenny’s brothers and sisters were staring at her as she devoured the contents of the bowl, after all, she didn’t know how long it would be until her next meal.
‘He’s going to be a proper little heartbreaker when he grows up, the handsome little thing. He ain’t got your green eyes though, but you know babies’ eyes change colour. Blimey, though, he’s got a good pair of lungs on him!’ Jenny said, holding Tommy as she swayed from side to side. ‘I ain’t being funny, but is your mum going to be all right looking after him?’
‘Probably not,’ Sarah answered, ‘so I’m going to have to do it.’
‘How are you going to manage that?’
‘I’ll have to leave school, I suppose,’ Sarah said.
‘But you can’t do that. You’re right clever, you are. You could have gone to grammar school if you’d taken your eleven plus.’
‘Maybe, but we’ll never know, will we, ’cos I didn’t have any shoes at the time. Not that it would have done me any good now,’ Sarah answered as she devoured the last of the stew.
Mrs Turner came back into the kitchen with a cloth bag bulging at the seams. ‘’Ere you go, love. This little lot will get you started, but I want the bag back.’
‘Thanks, thank you so much,’ Sarah said, taking the bag. ‘Can you show me how to make up the formula, please?’ She had a good idea of how it was done, but she wanted to quieten Tommy before returning home.
Mrs Turner prepared the bottle, while Jenny showed Sarah how to put a nappy on the baby. ‘We’d better put something warm on him too. Babies feel the cold, ain’t that right, Mum?’ Jenny said, and rummaged through the bag for something suitable.
‘Yes, love, they do, so keep him wrapped up warm. And, Sarah, try to get some sleep when you can, ’cos if your Tommy is anything like mine he’ll have you up most of the night.’
Once Tommy had been fed and drifted off to sleep, Sarah made her way back along the corridor. With her arms full, and Tommy content, she slowly pushed open the door to
