Chickenfeed (6 page)

Blackness Road
Crowborough
Sussex

November 18th, 1924

Dear Elsie,

Your letter shocked me. How can you be pregnant when we’ve never had sex? There was
no
love-making at the shack. I hugged you when you said you were lonely, but I never took my clothes off. You
can’t
be expecting a baby. The doctor’s wrong.

Tell your dad you’ve invented this story to make me marry you. If you really are pregnant then it must be some other man’s baby.

Yours,

86 Clifford Gardens
Kensal Rise
London

November 20th, 1924

My own darling Norman,

I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry to bring this trouble on you. But it’s no good putting your head in the sand. The doctor says a girl can get pregnant from heavy petting, and you know we’ve done that many times. We must make the best of this, lovey, and not get cross with each other.

Dad wants us to meet so that I can prove I’m not fibbing. He says it should be in a public place so that you won’t be able to shout at me. Do you remember the tea shop at Groombridge? I shall wait for you there at 3 o’clock next Monday (24th). If you don’t come, Dad says he will talk to your father in the evening. The baby is making me feel sick every morning, pet, and my condition will soon be obvious to everybody. I hope you love your little Elsie enough to do the right thing by her.

Your sweetheart,

Groombridge – Monday, November 24th, 1924

T
HE TEA SHOP WAS A
gloomy place. Thick lace curtains hung at the windows and dark panels lined the walls. Norman had taken Elsie there during the first summer at the farm. He’d perched her on his bicycle crosspiece and ridden the five miles to Groombridge. They’d snatched kisses as they rode through the Sussex countryside. Elsie had loved it even though her bottom had hurt for days afterwards.

Norman arrived early for the meeting but Elsie was already there. He spotted her immediately. She sat at a table in the corner, biting her nails and looking nervous. He wondered how long she’d been waiting. Hours probably. He guessed she’d been practising what to say since she wrote her letter.

She gave a little wave when she saw him. Then dropped her hand when he scowled at her. What was the point of talking to her? Did she really think he was stupid enough to accept a baby that didn’t –
couldn’t
– exist?

‘I knew you’d come,’ she said as he pulled out the chair opposite her.

‘You didn’t give me much choice. I don’t want my father dragged into your lies.’

‘I’m not lying.’ She put a protective hand on her belly. ‘I’m carrying your son, Norman.’

Despite himself, his eyes were drawn to what she was guarding. ‘You’re making it up, Elsie.’

‘That’s not what the doctor says.’

‘How can he know? You were barely two weeks gone when you saw him. Assuming you ever went
near
a doctor. I don’t believe that any more than this story you’ve made up about a baby.’

Elsie smiled brightly as a waitress approached the table. ‘We’d like a pot of tea and some scones. My husband says I must eat for two now.’

The woman laughed. ‘I’m pleased for you,’ she told Norman. ‘When’s it due?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, staring at Elsie. ‘When’s it due, Else?’

‘Next summer of course. You can’t have forgotten already.’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling as if to say ‘Men!’

‘Enjoy yourselves while you can is my advice,’ the waitress said, writing their order on her pad. ‘Life’s never the same afterwards.’ She moved away to another table.

‘You’re off your rocker if you think I’m going to marry you without proof,’ said Norman in a low voice. ‘What do you think I’m going to do when this baby never arrives? Laugh? I’ll be flaming mad.’

Elsie kept the false, bright smile on her face. ‘Of course the baby’s going to arrive. Mum says it’s a boy because he’s giving me awful morning sickness. She had the same trouble with my brother.’

She tried to take one of Norman’s hands but he pulled away from her.

‘You might comfort me,’ she said. ‘It’s frightening to find yourself pregnant when you don’t have a husband.’

‘You’re not pregnant, Elsie.’

A glint of temper showed in her eyes. ‘Don’t keep saying that.’

‘It’s the truth.’

‘No, it’s not,’ she hissed. ‘The truth is you did something you wish you hadn’t . . . but it’s too late, Norman. Now you have to marry me whether you like it or not.’ She rubbed her belly. ‘Unless you want your son to be born a bastard.’

He didn’t. He wanted a son he could be proud of. With Bessie. But he hesitated in the face of Elsie’s anger. ‘I don’t see how you can be in the family way,’ he said lamely. ‘It doesn’t make sense. How did it happen?’

This was the question she’d been waiting for. She launched into a hushed torrent of words, urging him to believe her. The doctor had told her that petting was far more dangerous than anyone realized. More babies were made by accident than were ever planned. A girl just had to touch a man and his sperm could find its way into her.

Norman shook his head in disbelief. ‘How?’

‘If she puts her hand on herself afterwards. Here—’ She pointed towards her crotch.

Was that true?

‘I undid your buttons,’ she said. ‘That’s when it must have happened.’ She lowered her voice to a sly whisper. ‘I was naked, remember.’

Norman clenched his fists between his knees and stared at the table. Despite the sex he’d had with Bessie, his only real knowledge of the birth process was egg-hatching. ‘It can’t be that easy, Else. Satan has to do the full thing.’

‘He’s a chicken, pet. Humans are different.’

Were they?

He wished he could ask Bessie. Even his father. As the waitress brought their tea and scones, he listened to Elsie prattle on about how they’d be a proper family by next summer. But her tone had a fake jollity, as if she was more intent on convincing strangers than convincing Norman.

Later, when he walked her to the station, she ordered him to arrange the wedding as soon as possible. ‘I’ll tell Mum and Dad it’ll happen before Christmas.’

He refused her offer of a kiss. ‘You’re taking a lot for granted, Elsie.’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ she said with a tremor of fear in her voice. ‘It’s
your
baby, Norman. You
have
to marry me.’

‘And if I don’t?’

‘I’ll kill myself,’ she sobbed tearfully. ‘And you’ll be to blame.’

*

When Bessie came to the shack that evening Norman asked her if a girl could get pregnant by touching a man’s ‘thing’ when he had his clothes on. She giggled. ‘You mean like this?’ she asked, feeling his penis through his trousers.

‘No. Putting her hand through his fly . . . then touching her fanny afterwards.’

‘Like this?’ She undid his buttons and fluttered her fingers around his foreskin before reaching under her skirt.

He grabbed her round the waist and nuzzled her neck. ‘I met a bloke this morning who said that’s how his sister got pregnant.’

‘He’s lying,’ said Bessie with another giggle. ‘The silly cow’s been at it hammer and tongs and doesn’t want her parents to know.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘So who is this bloke?’

‘No one you know,’ he said, lowering her on to the bed. ‘And I wouldn’t tell you anyway. If the girl wants to lie that’s her business.’

‘Except you’d have to be daft as a brush to believe rubbish like that. If touching was all it took . . . every girl in the world would be pregnant.’

Blackness Road

Crowborough

Sussex

November 25th, 1924

Dear Elsie,

I have thought long and hard about what you said yesterday and I’m afraid I do not believe you’re pregnant. For this reason, I shall not be arranging our wedding this week. There are one or two things I haven’t told you. Life has been difficult this last year. The farm is in debt, and someone else has been helping me through my problems. I am between two fires at the moment and need time to decide what is best to do.

Yours,

86 Clifford Gardens

Kensal Rise

London

November 26th, 1924

My own darling Norman,

I don’t understand. Of course I’m pregnant. Why won’t you believe me? And who is this someone else? I really do think you owe me an explanation.

Your loving,

Blackness Road

Crowborough

Sussex

November 27th, 1924

Dear Elsie,

What I haven’t told you is that a girl comes here late at night. It started when you gave in to your nerves again and felt that life wasn’t worth living. I lost hope that we could ever be happy together. This other girl is different. She makes me laugh and keeps me going through the bad patches. I have strong feelings for her or I wouldn’t have done what I’ve done.