murmured a reply but neither of the children heard it. They picked up Auntie Breda’s voice more easily, high-pitched as it was with indignation.
‘Well, I don’t trust him. He might do what the doc says now, but as soon as that baby’s born, he’ll be back to groping.’
‘See,’ Duncan said with satisfaction.
‘Ssh,’ Janet cautioned, for Breda was still talking.
‘He’s a man like all the rest, only after one thing. I’m getting her down that clinic, get her sorted out, as soon as that kid’s born.’
‘What does she mean?’ whispered Janet.
‘Oh, it’s just women’s talk,’ Duncan said airily. He wasn’t going to admit to not knowing.
But Janet knew Duncan didn’t understand. She didn’t either, but she pieced together what she did know. According to Auntie Breda, Dr Black was going to tell her dad he couldn’t touch her mother any more. That would mean he couldn’t kiss her, because he couldn’t do that without touching. Not that her parents went in for that sort of thing much, but she supposed they did in bed. There were lots of things people did in bed that she wasn’t sure of. Groping sounded pretty awful, and Janet wondered what it was. Her father obviously used to do it to her mother, because Auntie Breda said he’d be back to it. That was probably it. This groping was the thing they did that brought the babies, and Dr Black was going to tell her dad there was to be no more of it.
Bert Travers was very subdued when the children went back after Sarah had sent word that the doctor had left. He’d been soundly told off for allowing his daughter to become a drudge.
‘Considering how sick your wife is, I’m surprised you’re not giving more of a hand,’ the doctor had continued. ‘After all, Janet’s not old enough to be doing everything, is she?’
Bert hadn’t even really been aware of it. He never thought about what Betty did. He knew that everything got done, but she’d never complained. He’d never considered it hard work. After all, he did the hard day’s work in the factory and he wasn’t keen on starting again when he came home.
‘Your wife is fretting upstairs,’ Dr Black said. ‘She says Janet looks pasty and run-down. Worry is the last thing she needs. No wonder I can’t get her blood pressure down. Go on in the selfish way you have been and you’ll have a sick daughter as well as a sick wife, and then where will you be?’
Bert felt suitably chastened. He hadn’t realised, he said. He’d do more, and draft in young Duncan to give a hand.
But the doctor hadn’t finished. ‘While we are on the subject of selfishness, you do understand that this child must be the last?’
Bert gulped. ‘We hadn’t intended this one, Doc, not after the twins, you know.’
‘Intending is one thing, making sure is quite another,’ Dr Black said grimly. ‘You must ensure, if you wish to continue marital relations with your wife, that you take precautions.’
Bert stared at the doctor until he snapped irritably, ‘You know what I’m talking about, man, they’re on sale in all the barber’s shops.’
‘I’m not using them things. What do you bleeding well take me for?’ Bert gasped.
‘Well, I hope you’re just a fool and not a cruel idiot into the bargain,’ Dr Black said sternly. ‘I’m telling you straight, Betty has had a hard pregnancy and she has the classic signs of a hard birth. She’ll not go through another one totally unscathed and I would be worried for her very survival. Take precautions or curb your natural desires, the choice is yours.’
‘Some bloody choice,’ Bert said gloomily.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to decide,’ the doctor said, walking to the door. There he turned and said, ‘About young Conner and Noel …’
‘What about them?’
‘They seem to have boundless energy and Janet is hardly able to control them. Your wife will have her hands full in the summer with a new baby as well, and she’ll need to rest at times. They could start at the Gunter Road nursery in September. There is a waiting list, but I do have some influence and I could put in a word.’
‘I don’t know whether Betty would like them to go to a nursery,’ Bert said doubtfully.
‘Talk to her,’ the doctor said. ‘Point out the advantages. No need to make a decision yet. I’ll say good evening to you, Mr Travers, and I’ll be along on Monday to see your wife.’
Bloody doctor! Bert said to himself as he watched the doctor’s retreating back. Bloody interfering sod!
‘Bert! Bert!’ Betty called from upstairs. ‘Bert, was that the doctor I heard?’
Oh, bloody hell, Bert thought as he went upstairs. He told Betty how the doctor thought he might be able to get the twins into the Gunter Road nursery in September. He had just called in to tell them so they could talk about it.
‘Wonder he didn’t come up,’ Betty said, ‘and as for the twins, I don’t really know. None of the others have been to nursery.’
Looking at Betty’s white, strained face, Bert felt ashamed of his behaviour. It was obvious that Betty was far from well. Her lank hair, scraped back from her face, had silver streaks in, he noticed with surprise, and she heaved herself up in the bed awkwardly. His mother-in-law, sister-in-law and daughter had been the ones running up and downstairs with cups of tea and meals for Betty while he’d just slipped into bed at night and out again in the morning and hadn’t really looked at his wife at all. Now, though, he understood the doctor’s concern. Something will have to be done, he thought, because I don’t want to put her through this again, and another child would cripple us financially anyway. We’ll have to have a talk about it when Betty is feeling stronger.
There was a get together at the McCluskys’ on Easter Sunday afternoon. Janet thought it strange going without her mother, although she liked her relations. Bert promised to bring Betty some tasty goodies from the table which, Janet knew, would be groaning with food. Satisfied, Janet was glad to visit her grandparents’ house, which was almost as familiar as her own. She knew Breda would be there with Peter and Linda, as well as Brendan and Patsy. They’d seen little of Brendan since his marriage. According to Mrs McClusky, part of the reason for this was that Patsy lived too near to her own mother.
‘She’s there so often she might as well not have left,’ she’d confided to Janet.
‘Now, now, Sarah,’ Sean McClusky had said. ‘The lassie’s only young, and sure, it’s only natural. You’d have something to say if our girls didn’t visit often.’
A sniff was Gran’s only reply. Grandad had winked at Janet, and she’d been hard pressed to prevent a giggle escaping from her.
‘Anyway,’ Grandad had continued, ‘isn’t Brendan up to his eyes in work this minute and has been run off his feet these last months?’
Janet knew that was true, because Brendan was a carpenter and in great demand after the devastation of the war.
‘Likely to be that way for years,’ Bert had put in, ‘with the government promising new housing for the hundreds made homeless.’
