No Wings to Fly (22 page)

‘Tom,’ she said again, again raising her voice slightly against the surrounding din, ‘are you all right?’

He gave another nod, but still did not speak.

‘I heard from Father,’ she said. ‘He wrote and told me that – you were in here. It was a shock – to read his letter. I came at once.’

Tom said nothing. His mouth stayed fixed, lips together in a line, as if he did not trust himself to speak. On Lily’s right the woman had burst into tears and held an old handkerchief to her eyes. The noise of her sobbing was momentarily loud. Lily waited a few moments for the noise to subside then said:

‘Father told me so little. What happened to you, Tom? Please, tell me.’

And now he spoke, leaning forward on his seat, his dark eyes fixed on hers, his brow creased in a frown beneath his close-cropped hair. ‘You shouldn’t ’ave come, Lil. Oh, Lil, you shouldn’t be ’ere. I didn’t want you to see me ’ere.’

‘But I had to come. I’ve been so worried about you, wondering where you were, what you were doing.’

‘But – but that you should see me like this – see me in this place.’ As he spoke, his voice cracked and tears welled up and spilt onto his cheeks. The sight brought the tears to Lily’s own eyes, and she choked back a sob. Seconds passed. She dabbed her face and sat with her handkerchief
gripped in her two hands. ‘Why have they put you here?’ she asked when she felt calmer.

A bitter smile now touched his mouth, and he gave a little shake of his head. ‘I was caught,’ he said. ‘I got caught.’

‘But – but what had you done?’

‘I – I stole.’

‘What? What did you steal?’

‘I was ’ungry, Lil.’ His voice was deep with sadness.

‘Oh, Tom.’ Hearing his words her tears threatened again, and it took all her composure to keep them at bay. Somewhere in the room a small child began to cry, the wailing sound ringing out against the voices of the people. When the child’s crying had ceased, Lily said, ‘I can’t bear to hear that you were so desperate.’

‘I wus. I took some celery.’

‘Celery? You took some celery? That’s what you stole?’

He nodded. ‘From a barrow in the market place.’

She put a hand to her throat. He had stolen
celery
. ‘For that?’ she said, scarcely able to form the words. ‘They put you in here for that?’

He nodded.

‘But – you’re only a boy,’ she said. ‘For God’s sake, you’re not thirteen till June.’ She knew well that the punishments meted out by the courts could be harsh in the extreme, but surely not with Tom, not like this.

‘How long?’ she said after a moment.

‘How long? My sentence?’ He paused. ‘One month. With four days ’ard labour.’

‘A month,’ she repeated dully. ‘With hard labour.’

‘I was lucky. I was told it could be more.’ After a moment he added, ‘I had a whipping too. On the day I got in.’

‘Oh, Tom.’ His name burst out on a sob. She could not bear to think of him suffering so. Moments passed. ‘What happened to your eye?’ she asked.

‘Oh – that.’ He raised a hand and gingerly touched at the discoloured flesh around his eye socket. ‘I – I run into a door.’

She frowned. ‘Really – is that the truth?’

‘It don’t matter,’ he said.

She wanted to say,
It does matter
, but instead she asked, ‘Are they – are they kind to you in here?’

‘They’re all right. I work in the kitchens, and there’s one man – Jake – he’s good to me. He looks after me a bit – so it’s not so bad.’

‘Oh – well – that’s good.’ She felt relief at the small mercy. ‘I’m glad you’ve got a friend.’

‘Yeh.’ He nodded. ‘Don’t worry about me, Lil. I’ll be all right. It could be a lot worse. I peels potatoes and washes the pans. It’s all right.’

Looking at him through the bars, she could not get over his appearance. It wasn’t just his cropped hair; it was his whole demeanour. In spite of his positive words he looked beaten and cowed, without a spark of light in his eyes.

Breaking into her thoughts, he said, ‘Anyway, our Lil, ’ow are you? You keepin’ well?’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said. ‘I’ve nothing to complain about.’

‘And your babby – when do you expect it? Must be soon.’

‘Yes – not long now.’

‘I wish I could be there to see ’im.’

‘Him?’

‘Well – whatever.’

Lily said after a moment, ‘I’ve thought about you so much, Tom, since you went off that morning.’

‘I’m sorry I went off without even a word,’ he said, ‘but you ’ad so much on your plate. If I’d known the situation I’d never have called in the first place. Then, seein’ you like that – with you expecting a baby – I had to leave – I couldn’t add to your troubles.’

‘I worried about you so – not knowing.’

Suddenly a bell rang out, briefly bringing a temporary halt to the conversations, then a man’s voice bellowed: ‘Five minutes. Just five minutes.’ The bustle started up again. Lily was aware of the seconds, the minutes, passing.

‘So,’ said Tom, ‘Father knows I’m here.’

‘Yes, they wrote and told him.’

He nodded. ‘I ’ad to give my next of kin.’ He paused then asked, ‘D’you think – d’you think he’ll come and see me?’

Lily did not know how to reply. When she said nothing, Tom gave a little nod of understanding. ‘It don’t matter,’ he said.

Another bell rang out, jangling harshly against the sound of the voices, signalling the end of the allotted hour. At once the waiting guards straightened at their posts while the voices in the cavernous room changed their tone, as their owners protested against the passing time and the ending of their visit with their loved ones. One of the guards behind Tom stepped forward and touched him on the shoulder.

‘Goodbye, Tom,’ Lily said, leaning forward. ‘I don’t know whether I’ll be able to come and visit you again before you’re out.’

‘That’s all right. It don’t matter. You look after yourself.’

The guard behind Tom had stepped back, allowing them a few final moments. Lily could see a glistening in Tom’s eyes, and felt tears threatening her own once more. All around, the other visitors were getting to their feet, while murmurs and cries of ‘Goodbye,’ and ‘God bless you,’ were heard from all corners of the room.

Tom looked at Lily for one last time then turned away and joined the other prisoners who, watched by the guards, had begun to file out of the room. Lily stood there, watching until he had gone out of sight, and then made her way towards the exit. Minutes later, along with all the other
visitors, she was outside the prison walls, back in the bright May sun.

She was anxious to get away from the scene of so much unhappiness and stepped out briskly into the street. As she walked, a couple came hurrying by, a burly young man and a young woman, laughing and talking loudly. As they came past Lily in their rough eagerness to get ahead the woman stumbled, and, staggering on her cheap, flimsy heels, she gave a shriek and reached out wildly as she fell. In another second her desperate hands were snatching violently at Lily’s arm and Lily was thrown headlong onto the cobbles.

She did not cry out loudly as she fell, emitting nothing more than a little gasped ‘Oh.’ Then she lay there, the breath knocked from her body. For a few moments she remained quite stunned and hardly able to take in what had happened. She was vaguely aware of a dull ache starting up somewhere on her right hip, and another on her right elbow. Her reticule lay on the cobbles a couple of feet away.

As she tried to catch her breath she was aware of voices erupting all around her, with expressions of sympathy and concern as people gathered about. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, dear,’ said the young woman who had brought her down. Having herself recovered, she helped Lily up into a sitting position on the cobbles while someone picked up Lily’s reticule and set it down at her side. Lily’s hat had fallen so far over her eyes that she could hardly see, and she reached up and pushed it further back on her head. She realised that she was being supported by a tall, stoutly built woman. Briefly leaning back against the woman’s body, Lily put a hand to her swelled belly. The fall had jolted her so badly she could feel the wrench of it even now.

‘How are you feeling, love?’ asked the young woman who now bent over her. ‘Are you gunna be all right?’

Lily nodded. ‘I – I think so.’ In her belly the baby kicked,
and she nodded again and said, ‘Give me a minute to catch my breath. I’ll be all right.’

‘You went down with such a wallop,’ another woman said, and the one supporting Lily at her back, agreed, ‘Ah, you did that an’ all.

One of the uniformed guards had come over and stood looking down at her. ‘You want to come back inside, ma’am?’ he asked. ‘We got a chair if you wants.’

‘No, thank you.’ Lily shook her head. ‘I just need to get my breath. I’ll be all right.’

‘D’you think you can stand, dear?’ asked the woman supporting her back.

‘I – I think so.’ The soreness on her hip was sharper now, the numbness from the impact wearing off and letting the pain come through. She shifted around, and with help from two of the women, got to her feet. The stout, motherly woman put a hand under her elbow. ‘Where are you going to, dear?’ she asked.

‘To the station,’ Lily said. Her reticule was in her hand now. ‘If I can just get a cab . . .’

With Lily on her feet, the sensation of the moment was over, and the people began to drift away. Lily walked with the stout woman’s hand under her elbow. She could feel her heart beating from the shock of the fall.

There were three cabs waiting outside the gates and the woman saw Lily safely installed in one of them. Lily thanked her and sat back with a sigh of relief as the fly started away.

At Redbury station she caught the train to Corster where she changed for Sherrell. She was nearing Sherrell station when she felt the first contractions.

By the time Lily got back to Rowanleigh she was near collapse. With assistance from the driver she somehow got out of the fly and went inside, the pains stabbing at her so that she staggered, clutching at her belly and catching at her breath. Miss Elsie met her as she entered, took one look at her and went off calling for Mr Shad to go and fetch the midwife. He went as soon as he had hitched up the trap, and returned half-an-hour later with Mrs Toomley on board. Ten minutes after her arrival, with Mary on hand to fetch and carry, Lily’s son was born.

The baby came into the world the frailest-looking creature with a head of wispy fair hair and tiny hands stretching out as if reaching for a life that lay almost beyond him. At first he made no sound, but then Mrs Toomley, holding him by his ankles, gave him a sharp little slap on the buttocks and he gave a sudden twist in her grasp and began to squall.

The midwife clucked concernedly over him and said, ‘Well, he’s the tiniest little mite, there’s no getting away from it. I doubt he weighs more than five pound, but he’s absolutely perfect for all that.’ Then she added, a note of conviction in her voice, ‘And he’ll pick up, you’ll see.’

Lily, lying back exhausted, looked at the baby’s glistening, scrunched-up face and could only feel relief that the birth was over. Miss Elsie, who had also been present at the baby’s coming, pressed Lily’s hand and said, ‘Well done. You’ve come through it.’

The baby was quickly and efficiently bathed, then wrapped in a warm blanket and laid on Lily’s breast. She was not prepared for the sudden closeness, and for a moment felt at a loss. But then her arm came up and wrapped around the tiny form and held him to her. The midwife was tidying the room, putting away her things, straightening the bedclothes, humming as she worked. Miss Elsie, standing close to the bed, said to Lily, ‘I’ll go and make you some tea. I daresay you could do with it.’

As Miss Elsie left the room, Mrs Toomley looked over at the baby who had now started to cry again with a thin, pathetic, wailing sound. ‘
He’s
the one who needs somethin’, dear,’ she said. ‘The poor mite’s hungry.’

The baby’s head was lying on Lily’s breast. Almost without thinking of it, she put up her hand and untied the ribbon that held closed the neck of her nightgown. She pulled it down, her soft breast and nipple exposed, feeling the air upon her skin. And then the baby’s lips were there, and the crying stopped as his mouth closed over her nipple. She felt the drawing of her milk into him and gave a sigh.

The midwife, glancing over in the course of her busyness, nodded her approval. ‘He might be small but he’s big enough to know what he wants,’ she said. ‘Thank God,
they
knows it even when
you
don’t.’

Lily lay back while the child suckled at her breast, milk from the side of his mouth dribbling out and running down on her skin. As he fed, she studied him. She had never seen an infant so small and so vulnerable-looking. She had clear memories of her half-sister as a small baby, but Dora had been born at full term and had been lusty and a good size. How different from this little creature. She looked at the tiny fingers, the minute fingernails, the perfect, flawless skin. Her gaze moved to his head and took in the fine hair and the features of his face. She looked at the button of his nose, at his rosy lips around her engorged nipple. There
was a tiny dark mark on his cheek, shaped like a crescent moon, lying close to his left ear. She touched it softly with her fingertip as if she would wipe it away, and then realised that it was a birthmark.

Mrs Toomley came to the bedside and looked down at Lily and the infant as they lay there. ‘All right, my dear?’ she asked. ‘Are you feelin’ all right?’

Lily nodded, and gave a faint smile. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Be you in any pain, dear?’

‘Not really. No – it’s not too bad.’

The baby, having suckled for only three or four minutes, released Lily’s nipple and fell asleep. Gently, Mrs Toomley lifted him up and laid him in the cradle. He did not wake. Standing over the infant, the midwife looked down at him and gave a sigh. ‘He’s a poor, nesh little thing,’ she said, ‘and he’s gunna need some real lookin’ after. But as I say, with the right care he’ll pick up.’

She prepared to leave then, saying that she would call back later in the evening. Soon after she had gone, Miss Elsie came in with a tray bearing two cups which she set down at the bedside.