For All Our Tomorrows (41 page)

‘Mom says he isn’t Chad’s, that he’s not a Jackson.’

‘Well your mom is wrong. Tell her I want to see Chad, please.’

But still he did not come. As the day wore on, Bette’s newly bolstered courage began to fail. Not even Peggy came in to see her again. Mary-Lou brought her more food, around supper-time, barely glancing in the baby’s direction this time. When Bette asked where Chad was, if someone had told him that the baby had arrived, she merely shrugged her shoulders and left.

Bette called after her. ‘You will tell him, Mary-Lou. I’m counting on you.’

No reply.

Getting herself to the bathroom when she needed to go, took all her effort. Bette managed to get out of bed and pull on her dressing gown, gingerly making her way to the bedroom door she called for help, but there was no response. She felt so sore, and worried about leaving the baby unattended. What if he smothered himself, or stopped breathing when she wasn’t looking?
 

‘Mary-Lou, Peggy, can you mind the baby while I go and use the John.’ Taking care to use an expression they would understand.

She could hear a distant buzz of voices downstairs in the kitchen but nobody heard her, or if they did, paid her no heed. There was nothing else for it but to take Matthew, as she now called her son, with her. She’d chosen the name partly because she felt sure Chad and his family would want a biblical name, and because she’d always liked it.

Gathering him gently in her arms, Bette made her way slowly along the landing to the bathroom, lay Matthew carefully on his blanket on the floor and did what she had to do, taking the opportunity to wash herself all over while she was there, since her mother-in-law had barely done more than wipe her with a damp flannel after the birth. She felt much refreshed afterwards.

Back in her room she put Matthew in his crib and, realising he was wet, took a clean nappy from the cupboard where she’d stored them and struggled to pin it on him. It took her a long time because he was so very tiny and she was terrified of sticking the pin into him. After all of that, she climbed back into bed, exhausted, and was asleep in seconds. When she woke, it was quite dark and the baby was crying to be fed again.

So began the longest night Bette could ever recollect.

Matthew would wake at regular, and all too frequent, intervals for his feed, take a little milk from her and generally fall asleep in the middle of it, only to wake again two hours later, crying for more.

Bette was in despair, at the end of her tether. She’d never been so tired in her life. Could there be something wrong? Had she run out of milk? Wasn’t it coming through as it should? Could that be because she was so fearful of the future, so afraid, quite certain that even now the family were plotting against her, planning a way to rid themselves of this interloper who was trying to foist another man’s child on their son.

It was around mid-afternoon of the following day when the door creaked open and instead of a sour-faced Mary-Lou bearing fresh food or more cold tea, Chad himself walked into the room. Bette sat up quickly in the bed, wishing she’d had warning so that she could have tidied her hair or put on some lipstick, but what did it matter, he was here, at last.

‘Chad, I’m so glad to see you. I thought you’d never come. Didn’t they tell you that he’d been born? Just look at him. Isn’t he marvellous?’

Chad made no move to approach the baby. He stood at the bottom of the big bed, grasping the iron rail tightly with his one hand as he stared down at her. ‘Mom told me everything. You lied to me, Bette. I can see now why you were in such a hurry to marry a one-armed, clapped out marine. He’s Barney’s child, isn’t he? Did Barney turn you down? He would, of course. Barney doesn’t go in for commitment. He takes a girl and leaves her, that’s his style.’

‘Oh, Chad, it wasn’t like that, really it wasn’t. It’s you I love. I don’t want Barney.’ Bette was kneeling on the bed now, putting her hands out, trying to reach him.

‘Are you telling me that you never slept with him?’

He waited in silence for her denial, and when it didn’t come, when he saw the rising tide of colour in her pale cheeks, he knew the answer to his question. He blinked as if she’d struck him, then clenched his fist into a tight ball of fury and on a sharp, indrawn breath, walked away.

‘Chad, don’t go. Don’t leave me like this. I need to explain. I want to talk about this.’

His last words were like a knife through her heart. ‘There’s nothing left to say. You’ve got what you wanted, much good may it do you.’
 

Bette’s lying-in lasted no longer than six days and throughout that time, Chad never came again. She spent it largely alone and unattended, and by the end of the week she was near screaming with frustration and boredom, wanting to get up and go out. Bette felt desperate to find him so they could talk it all through and she could attempt to make reparation.

She needed to explain that she and Barney had both believed Chad to be dead, that they’d been overwhelmed by emotion, a moment of weakness, partly brought on by grief. She told herself this story so often that she almost began to believe it; resolutely putting from her mind the passion she’d felt for Barney, how much fun they’d had together, how she’d wanted to marry him only a short while ago.

That was a fact Chad must never discover: that the wedding had been called off only because they’d heard he was still alive. He’d been hurt enough. Besides, he was right in a way. Barney had taken advantage of her, and been eager enough to escape the penalty of marrying her.

Having issued her judgement on the father of the child, Peggy hadn’t set foot through the bedroom door again. Throughout the six days, Mary-Lou had been the one to take away soiled sheets and bring fresh linen, carry in trays of food and drinks, and even she had been resolutely uncommunicative.

It was quite plain to Bette what kind of future she could expect with the Jackson family. Bad as it had been before, it would be ten times worse now.

She didn’t even know where her husband could be sleeping in a house that was supposed to be bursting to the rafters with not an inch of alternative sleeping accommodation to spare.

It was Peggy, in fact, who told her, on the seventh morning when Bette walked into the kitchen, Matthew in her arms, unable to stay in bed another minute. ‘If you’re looking for Chad, he ain’t here.’

‘Where is he then?’

‘Took himself off to the cabin.’

‘You have a cabin?’ Bette was astonished. Why had she never heard about this before? All these months they’d been living cooped up with his family, and yet there’d been an alternative. ‘What sort of cabin? Where is it?’

‘T’aint no palace. But I reckon you’d best join him there.’

‘Does he want me to?’

‘Don’t make no difference whether he do or not. You’re man and wife in the eyes of God, so you’ll just have to knuckle on down and make the best of things, like the rest of us. Mary-Lou will help you pack your things.’

So she was to be banished from the house, after all. Bette felt a surge of relief. She was delighted, although fearful of the reception that awaited her in this so-called cabin. She didn’t, not for one minute, expect Chad to be putting out a welcome mat. He saw her as a cheat and a liar, and probably he was right. She had cheated on him, let him down, flirted with and loved both himself and Barney, and this was the result. It served her right if she was now to pay the price for such foolishness. Hadn’t Sara warned her that it would all end in tears?

In a strange way, the six days of isolation had given her renewed strength, perhaps because of this tiny scrap of life which depended upon her entirely. Matthew deserved a better mother, that was certain, but he also needed a father, and Chad would make a good one. Bette knew this instinctively.

Not only that but through all those long, lonely hours she’d had ample time to realise that she did still care for Chad. Perhaps now the baby was safely delivered they could start again, begin afresh and learn to love each other as they once had. She just needed him to give her a second chance.

Chapter Forty

As it turned out, cabin was a somewhat grand word for what turned out to be little more than an unpainted, wooden shack. It’s four walls were made of un-sawn logs resting on a few piles of stones. It bore a crooked, tin-can chimney that smoked fitfully on a corrugated iron roof. Bette stared at it, appalled, unable to believe that anyone could actually live in it

 
Harry had taken her there in the pick-up, not saying a word the entire journey, although his little piggy eyes constantly raked over her, so that she had to keep checking that her knees were well covered with the baby’s blanket.

He deposited her bags, boxes, the crib and the baby’s things on the shabby old porch, got back into the truck and roared away in a cloud of dust without even a goodbye.

Bette cradled the baby in her arms while she stood and watched the truck depart until every speck of dust had settled again and all that remained was a shimmer of latent heat glazing the surface of the unmade road.

The door of the cabin remained firmly closed. No one had come out to greet her. Not only was there no welcome mat but there was a disturbing, unlived in feel to the place, yet Peggy had said quite clearly that Chad was here.

He must be waiting inside, sulking perhaps, unwilling to apologise for his harsh words. Bette knew it would be up to her to take the first step and make amends. All she had to do was to pluck up the courage to go inside and ask his forgiveness. He loved her, surely she could make it right between them?

Bette wished he would come out now, quickly. Then she could sit down and rest and he could hold the baby, see what a handsome little fellow he was.

Left standing out here, all alone, she was beginning to feel nervous, and desperately alone.

There was no sound, other than that of the wind soughing in the branches, a timely warning that summer was passing and autumn, fall, was upon them. A shiver ran down her spine and hoisting Matthew to a more comfortable position in her arms, she turned the handle and went inside.

The shack was empty and it took no time at all for Bette to explore it. It comprised one single room with a table and a few stools down the centre and a large cupboard against the end wall. The floors were rough wood planks with the ground beneath visible between the cracks. The windows too were cracked, cardboard blocking the worst holes, presumably to stop winter winds from whistling through. The only sop to comfort were a couple of battered rocking chairs set before a wood burning stove, and at the top of a ladder which led up into the loft, she found a mattress. No sign of a bed, but at least the pillows, sheets and blankets looked clean. But then Peggy would have seen to that.

The rest of the cabin too had been cleaned and swept by someone, a pegged rug on the floor and a bible picture on one wall, though with precious little else to cheer it’s starkness.

She discovered that the kitchen was a tiny outhouse built at the back of the cabin, in typically southern style. It looked as if a breath of wind might blow it down and contained nothing more than a sink and a rusty old wood-fired cooker which looked at least fifty years old.

There appeared to be no running water or bathroom in the place, and further exploration revealed a well and a bucket behind the cabin in what the Jacksons would call the yard, but was actually a stretch of garden leading onto woodland.
 

Still carrying the baby in her arms, not yet having found the courage to put him down anywhere, Bette brought in her things, bit by bit. Then she changed Matthew and lay him down in his crib before sinking thankfully onto a stool, giving the cradle a little push with her toe to make it rock.

Jake had made it for her, for which she was immensely grateful. It was beautifully if plainly carved, though he’d promised to inscribe the baby’s name on the foot, once she’d chosen one. Now, he probably wouldn’t be allowed to do even that.

Bette was resolutely keeping her mind away from the fact that Chad was not here. It didn’t bode well for their future together, but she would think about the implications of that later. When her husband returned from wherever he was, he would certainly need feeding.

When she felt rested and had caught her breath a little, Bette examined the contents of the cupboard which was, quite literally, bare, save for a few bits of crockery and a couple of pans. In the out-kitchen there wasn’t any sign of food either, not even any washing up left in the sink which surprised her. Bette hadn’t realised that Chad could be so tidy.

At least Peggy had packed some food for her, which would do for now. Once Chad got back, he could drive them to the store.

First, she fetched water and gave the shelves a thorough wipe down, just to be on the safe side, then spread out some clean newspapers she’d found stacked in a corner.

They were a few months old, one having a report of the coming invasion.
Bogus army and false landings invented by Allied chiefs to confuse the Germans
, shouted the headline. Bette sank to her knees, reduced to tears by the rush of memories.

She thought of Fowey and all the excitement of the GIs arriving, the fun of the dances and going to the flicks, the thrill of all that flattering attention, the whispers and secrets surrounding the planned invasion. She thought of Sara and her young niece and nephew, of Cory and Sadie, the explosion of fish that had led to her meeting Chad, and last but not least, of Barney.