and three little hand-knitted outfits, as well as some mittens and a hat. There was even a small stuffed toy.
She carefully moved Tommy over on the bare mattress, hoping it wouldn’t disturb him. Then she lay down next to him and stared at him in awe before closing her eyes.
She gently pulled him close to her. ‘I’ll protect you,’ she whispered, all the time worried her mother would wake up and snatch the child away.
Annie had never felt so rough. She was sore down below and ached all over. This was one of the worst hangovers she’d ever had. She squinted against the daylight as she opened her eyes. A stiff drink would sort her out, she thought, then remembered with horror – she’d given birth.
Her head was thumping, but she managed to push herself up and saw Sarah sat at the table. To her disgust, her daughter was holding the baby and looked to be bottle-feeding him.
‘I thought I told you to get rid of him,’ she snapped.
Sarah didn’t answer but, to Annie’s surprise, she saw her daughter throw her a look of disdain.
‘So what’s he still doing here?’ Annie demanded.
‘Mum, I can’t get rid of him. It ain’t that easy.’
‘Of course it bloody is! If you’d gone out last night when it was dark, like I told you to, you could have thrown him over Battersea Bridge and no one would have seen you.’
Annie saw her daughter’s eyes widen in shock. The stupid little goody-two-shoes, she thought.
‘I couldn’t do that! It would be murder! I thought you was kidding last night. Mum, how could you? Tommy’s your child!’
‘Tommy, eh. So you’ve given the bastard a name. Don’t get too attached. I’m telling you, he ain’t staying!’ Annie said, and lay back down on the mattress.
‘Please, Mum, I’ll look after him. You won’t have to do a thing. Look, I’ve got him some clothes and nappies … Please …’
Annie rolled her eyes and heaved a deep breath. She didn’t want to be thinking about it. She could feel dried blood on her legs, so she’d have to get up and wash herself down. Bugger, she thought, as she realised she’d be out of action for at least a week. That would make it difficult to get her hands on any booze, and a bottle of gin took priority over a bastard baby.
‘Do what you want, Sarah, just keep the bloody thing out of my sight, and don’t expect me to feed it,’ she answered dismissively. The sooner her milk dried up, the better, she thought, as she glanced down at her engorged breasts. She’d have to be extra careful in future and avoid any more unwanted pregnancies. After all, a swollen stomach wasn’t good for business and was taking its toll on her body.
Worse still, as Sarah appeared reluctant to dump the child, it looked like she’d be burdened with this one too. She couldn’t force the girl to do it, but that didn’t mean she’d have to look after it. As far as she was concerned, if her daughter wanted the baby, then she’d be the one to take care of it, and woe betide her if she didn’t keep the little bastard out of her way.
Christmas came and went, and, as expected, Sarah’s festive stocking had been empty. Her mother said she didn’t believe in Christmas, and years before had told Sarah that Santa Claus didn’t exist.
Now, another four months had passed and Sarah was pleased the bitterly cold winter was behind them. As the early afternoon spring sunshine broke through the April clouds, she pushed Tommy’s pram through the housing estate. She’d found the pram broken and dumped at the bottom of the stairs, and though she didn’t like Eddy, she’d been thankful that he’d managed to repair it.
Her stomach growled. It had been days since she’d eaten properly, just a few mouthfuls of vegetable broth here and there. Her mother had given Sarah some bread ration coupons, but she’d sold them to buy formula for Tommy.
Sarah stopped for a moment and pulled back the pram hood, allowing the sun to warm Tommy’s face. As he happily gurgled, she smiled lovingly at him, satisfied that her sacrifice of food was worth it to see Tommy thriving. He was six months old now and she’d soon have to wean him off the formula, and then it wouldn’t be long before he would be walking and talking. Though she was keen to see her brother develop, part of her wished he could stay forever a small bundle, safe in her arms. She feared once Tommy was a toddler, their mother’s patience would wear thinner, and she wondered how she’d protect him against her vicious tongue and brutal ways.
‘Hey, Sarah.’
Sarah heard her friend’s voice calling her name and looked behind to see Jenny running towards her. Though they were both now fourteen years old, Sarah thought Jenny looked very young with her blonde hair in pigtails.
‘I haven’t seen you for ages,’ Jenny said breathlessly when she caught up with her.
‘I’ve been busy with Tommy. You know how it is.’
‘Yeah, I suppose. A bunch of us are going over to the old bomb site. Stanley’s dad made him a new cart and Molly and me are gonna have a leapfrog race with him. Do you want to come? It’ll be a right laugh.’
Sarah thought for a moment. She would’ve loved to join her friends and play, carefree, but she had more pressing things on her mind. ‘No, not today. I’m taking Tommy for a walk in the park.’
‘Oh, Sarah, you’re not off to see that old codger again, are you?’ Jenny asked and rolled her eyes.
‘Mr Sayers ain’t an old codger … He’s really nice.’
‘If you say so. Well, suit yourself, I’m off. You’re no fun any more.’
Sarah watched her friend skip away. Unlike her, Jenny didn’t look as if she had a care in the world, and as much as Sarah loved Tommy, a part of her was jealous and yearned for her old life back. Dismissing her thoughts for now, and driven by the need for something substantial to fill her belly, she continued through the estate, heading for Battersea Park. A cool breeze caught her long dark hair and whipped it over her face. Tucking it firmly behind her ears, she marched on, hoping to find Mr Sayers working on his allotment.
Part of the park had been given over to the war effort and many allotments remained, though with the new sculptures they were erecting and the redevelopment of the park, Mr Sayers had told Sarah he wasn’t confident he’d have his little piece of land for much longer. Still, it suited them both for the time being.
She had first met him in the park, when he’d seen her picking and scoffing wild blackberries which were growing in some brambles along one of the more discreet pathways. When he’d discovered she was eating the fruit because she was so hungry, he’d taken her to his allotment and offered her some cabbages to take home. That had been a year before Tommy had been born, and since then a firm friendship had developed. Mr Sayers’ eyes weren’t good, and he missed reading the daily papers. Sarah
