The River Folk (28 page)

At that moment, a pain gripped Mary Ann with such ferocity that she threw herself backwards on the bed and arched her body. Her screams echoed down the river.

‘Dan,’ Susan said, taking charge without any further permission or otherwise from Mary Ann, ‘I need hot water, a bowl, soap, plenty of clean towels . . . Ah, I see you’ve already made a start. Good.’

Dan, thankful to have something positive to do, hurried to do as she asked, although there was barely room in the small cabin for them to move around each other. At last, Susan said, ‘I think you’d better go on deck now, Dan. Out of the way.’

But Dan shook his head. ‘No, I’m staying here. I want to see my son born.’

Mary Ann, through a haze of pain and near delirium, saw Susan smile and heard her say softly, ‘And if it’s a girl?’

Dan’s voice came clearly to her. ‘I’ll love her just the same.’

‘Sit over there, then, and keep out of the way, Dan Ruddick. This is women’s work.’

At that moment, Duggie poked his head down the companion. ‘How’s she doing? Anything you want?’

‘We’re fine, Duggie . . .’

Panting between contractions, Mary Ann gasped, ‘You speak for yourself,’ but Susan only smiled and went on, ‘But you could take the expectant father out of my way.’

‘I’m staying here,’ Dan declared and Duggie grinned. ‘He’s too big for me to shift, Susan. Sorry, you’ll have to put up with him. Just watch he doesn’t pass out, though.’ He laughed and added, ‘I’ll wait up here, though, if it’s all the same to you.’

Then Susan was bending over Mary Ann again. ‘Now, my dear, the next time you get a strong pain, I want you to push.’

Mary Ann, between spasms, blinked at her. ‘Push? Push what?’

‘Well, sort of . . . bear down. You’ve got to help the little mite. It can’t come into the world without a bit of help from you. You’ve got to push it out.’

‘Have I?’

Susan nodded and as Mary Ann’s face began to twist with the pain once more, she said, ‘Come on, Mary Ann, push!’

An hour later a baby girl made her way noisily into the world. Mary Ann, weak and exhausted, was scarcely aware of Dan’s triumphant shout and of Susan’s smiling face as she cut the cord, lifted the child and put the red and bawling infant into its father’s arms.

‘You have a daughter, Dan. So you’d best forget all about having a son for this time.’

Even through her fatigue, Mary Ann was aware of Dan and Susan standing close together, their heads bent over the child, marvelling at its lusty cry and its waving limbs.

‘By, she’s a little fighter, ain’t she?’ Dan was grinning broadly.

‘She’s a little beauty. And just look at all that black hair.’

‘Oi, what’s going on down there?’ A shout from above made both Dan and Susan look up with startled eyes. ‘Out of me way, Duggie Ruddick. It’s not you I’m after.’

‘Oh dear,’ Susan said, suddenly agitated. ‘That’s Ted. He must have come looking for me. I must go.’

‘Wait a minute. You can’t leave her like that.’ Mary Ann saw Dan nod towards her and Susan turned back with a little start, almost as if she had completely forgotten about the mother.

‘Oh dear, no. You’re right, I can’t. The afterbirth hasn’t come away yet.’ For a moment, Susan seemed uncertain, and when another shout from on deck filtered down to them, she jumped visibly.

‘Susan? Are you down there?’

‘Look, Ted . . .’ Now they could hear Duggie trying to reason with him.

Susan whispered to Dan. ‘Give the child to me. She can lie beside Mary Ann. You go up there and tell him what’s happened while I see to her.’

Mary Ann lay back against the pillows. She was beginning to shiver now. All she wanted was to be wrapped up warmly and left to sleep and sleep. And she certainly didn’t want the yelling infant beside her.

‘It’s not coming away. Can you push again, Mary Ann?’

Weakly, Mary Ann said, ‘Whatever for? She’s born now.’

‘Yes, but there’s what they call the afterbirth. It has to come away. If it doesn’t, you could be dreadfully ill.’

‘I am dreadfully ill now,’ Mary Ann moaned, and lay with her eyes closed. ‘I just want to die.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ Susan said, sharply. ‘You’ve got a baby to think about now.’

‘I don’t want it. You can keep it.’

‘ “It” is a “her”,’ Susan reminded her brusquely. ‘Now, come along. We’ve got to get this afterbirth out. Just sit up a minute, Mary Ann.’

Mary Ann did not move, making no effort to assist the woman who was trying so hard to help her, limited though her own knowledge was.

‘Mary Ann . . .’

‘Susan,’ Ted’s bellow came down the companion. ‘You come home now. Do you hear me? I won’t have you on this ship a moment longer.’

‘Oh dear,’ Susan muttered, wringing her hands. ‘Oh Mary Ann, please . . .’

‘Look . . .’ Mary Ann raised her head and then heaved herself up on to one elbow. She opened her mouth to speak again, but caught her breath and was seized by a fit of coughing.

‘Oh!’ she cried, as she felt something slither out of her and rest, wet and sticky, between her legs.

‘Thank goodness!’ Susan said with relief. ‘It’s come away.’ Then she raised her voice. ‘I’m coming, Ted. I won’t be a minute.’

‘You’ll come now, woman.’

But Susan remained where she was, busily washing Mary Ann. ‘I’ll be in trouble with him,’ she murmured, ‘but I can’t leave you like this.’

Despite her exhaustion, Mary Ann was intrigued. ‘What do you mean? Why should he mind?’

Susan glanced at her and then away again. In a low voice she said, ‘Ted told me I was to have nothing to do with Dan again.’

‘Well, you aren’t. I mean, you’re only helping me, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. But I’m aboard Dan’s ship, aren’t I?’

The two young women stared at each other as Mary Ann said shrewdly, ‘You mean he’s jealous of Dan?’

Susan nodded. ‘Oh Mary Ann,’ she whispered and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

Mary Ann saw her brush the tears away impatiently and plaster a brave smile on her face. ‘There. That’s all I can do. But I think Dan should get his mother to have a look at you as soon as you get to Elsborough. I must go.’ But even then, she could not resist putting out a gentle finger and touching the cheek of Dan’s baby girl.

As she turned away and put her foot on the first rung of the ladder, Mary Ann said, ‘Susan . . .’

Susan paused and looked back at her.

‘Thank you,’ Mary Ann said. ‘I know it must have been hard for you.’

Susan nodded, smiled and then climbed the ladder. Mary Ann lay back and closed her eyes, but a second later they flew wide open as she heard Ted Oliver’s voice again. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Mary Ann let out a startled gasp as she heard distinctly the sound of a slap and Susan’s cry.

‘Now, look here . . .’ began Dan’s voice.

‘Don’t you “look here” to me, Dan Ruddick. You just keep away from her now. You hear me. She’s
my
wife now. You cast her off when you took up with that little trollop down there. So you leave Susan be. She’s mine.’ A pause and then, ‘Come on. We’re going home.’

Another startled cry from Susan and Mary Ann imagined that Ted had grasped hold of his wife and was pulling her after him. Straining her ears, she heard them climbing down the rope ladder and into a rowing boat that bumped gently against the side of the ship. Then she heard the splash of oars as Ted pulled away. The sound became fainter and, at last, Dan descended the ladder and came to the side of the bed.

His face, showing none of the earlier exultation at the birth of his child, now looked grim with shock and despair.

‘He hit her, Mary Ann. Right in front of me. The bastard actually hit her. We couldn’t stop him.’

Mary Ann lay back and closed her eyes, memories of her early life flooding back to her. Fleeting pictures of the beatings her mother had suffered at the hands of her father. She could almost feel the bruises once more that she had received from him.

‘Maybe he’ll finish up at the end of a rope,’ she said, bitterly.

As she drifted into an exhausted sleep, the last words she heard Dan say were, ‘I’ll hang the bastard mesen if I catch him hitting her again.’

‘Oh Mary Ann, she’s beautiful. What a little treasure. Look, Bert. Look at those big eyes.’

The new grandmother was drooling over the baby, whilst the mother was lying listlessly on the bunk, refusing to even try to get out of it.

‘What’s her name?’

Mary Ann, still weak and uninterested in her daughter, shrugged. ‘Haven’t thought of one yet.’

‘Not thought of one!’ Bessie was scandalized. ‘Why, I’d have thought you’d been discussing names for weeks. We did, didn’t we Bert? Rosemary was a favourite. Every time we picked Rosemary, didn’t we?’

Bert grinned. ‘Aye. Good job we never used it though, eh?’ He tickled the baby under her chin. ‘She’s smiling at me. Look, she’s smiling at me.’

‘Wind,’ said Bessie knowledgeably.

‘Never,’ Bert insisted. ‘She knows who her grandpa is. She’s smiling at me.’

Bessie looked at him fondly. ‘’Course she is, Bert.’

Mary Ann listened to them and silently ground her teeth. Why didn’t they go away and leave her alone? And they could take the squalling brat that pulled and sucked at her and made her breasts sore with them.

They were looking at her, watching her, concern on their faces. ‘Do you want to call her after your mam, love?’ Bessie asked gently.

Mary Ann lay against the pillows and closed her eyes, remembering the thin little woman who had been so dominated, so overpowered by Sid Clark that she had not had the strength for her own survival, yet alone that of her only child. Mary Ann could scarcely remember affection or any kind of care from her mother. She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Bessie and Bert standing there. These two warm-hearted souls had been far more like proper parents to her than ever her own had been.

‘Or you could call her after yourself, or even after our Dan. Danielle. That’s a nice name.’ Bessie pulled a grimace. ‘Bit posh, mebbe, for the likes of us. But it’d be nice.’

Briefly, the question flitted through Mary Ann’s mind. Was there a feminine form of Randolph? But, of course, she did not voice the question aloud, although the thought of even suggesting it made her smile impishly.

Misreading it, Bessie said, ‘You like that? Danielle?’

Mary Ann moved her head on the pillow. ‘No. I’d like to call her after you, Mam.’

A flush of pleasure crept up Bessie’s neck and suffused her face. Bert put his arm around his wife and squeezed her waist. ‘Aw, now that’s nice. Isn’t that lovely, lass?’

Mary Ann was touched to see tears in their eyes.

‘Me proper name’s Elizabeth,’ Bessie said.

Mary Ann sighed and closed her eyes again, but, seeing how much pleasure her sudden decision had given them both, the smile stayed on her mouth. ‘That’s settled then. Elizabeth it is. We’ve already asked Duggie to be her godfather. Do you think Miss Edwina would agree to be her godmother?’

‘I’m sure she’d love to be,’ Bessie said, as she laid the child beside Mary Ann and added softly, her voice breaking with emotion, ‘Thank you, Mary Ann, for giving us a beautiful granddaughter. You’ve made me and Bert very happy, to say nothing of our Dan. He’s fair puffing out his chest like a pouter pigeon.’

Bert moved forward too and leant over the bed to kiss Mary Ann’s forehead. ‘We’re very proud of you, lass.’

Mary Ann felt a peculiar lump in her throat. She looked down at her baby daughter. She had been so locked away in her own discomfort that she had turned against her child, blaming its arrival for feeling so dreadful. Now, she really looked at her for the first time, seeing her through the eyes of the besotted father and the doting grandparents.

They were right, she was a pretty little thing, Mary Ann saw now. With dark wisps of hair and dark eyes, round cheeks and a surprisingly smooth skin. Her small mouth worked in sucking movements yet she made no noise and merely gazed up, unblinkingly, at the face of her mother.

‘Hello,’ Mary Ann said softly, gently tracing the shape of the tiny face with her finger. ‘Hello, my little Lizzie.’

Mary Ann could see the relief in Dan’s face when he climbed down the ladder into the cabin later to find her out of the bunk bed and sitting on the bench seat feeding her child.

‘Feeling better, love?’ he asked tenderly and reached out to touch the baby’s head.

‘Much better. I’ll soon be up and about.’ There was a pause before she added, ‘Did your mam and dad tell you her name?’

Dan shook his head. ‘Mam said you’d decided, but she said you’d tell me yourself.’

Mary Ann smiled up at him. ‘We’ll christen her after your mother, Dan. Elizabeth. All right?’

She didn’t need to hear Dan’s answer – it was written in the broad smile that wreathed his face. ‘But I thought,’ she went on, ‘that we’d call her Lizzie. What do you think?’

Dan nodded. ‘Fine by me.’ He paused a moment, watching them, then he said, ‘If you’re really feeling better, Mary Ann, we should take the ship back to Newark. Mr Sudbury has been very kind – very understanding – but it’s time I was earning us all some money again.’

‘Of course,’ Mary Ann said at once. ‘But I can’t do much just yet.’

‘Oh no, no,’ Dan held up his hand in protest. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to, my love. Besides,’ he smiled down fondly at them with love and pride in his voice, ‘You’ve enough to do looking after our daughter. Duggie says he’ll do the cooking for a few days.’

Dan was a good husband, Mary Ann thought, and he would make a wonderful, loving father. She did love him, she told herself. She really did. She glanced down at the infant in her arms. Lizzie’s blue gaze was fastened upon Mary Ann’s face as she sucked contentedly. The baby’s tiny fingers fluttered, uncontrolled, and touched her mother’s breast. Mary Ann trembled beneath the feather-light touch and in that moment she vowed, I will be a good mother to you and a better wife to Dan.

And so doing, she locked away the memories of Randolph Marsh and determined to think of him no more.

Their life together – the three of them that had now become four – evolved into a pattern. Most of the time, Mary Ann and the growing child travelled aboard the ship. She worked hard and kept the promise she had made to herself, and only when the child was fast asleep and all her chores done did she allow herself to pick up her embroidery. Now her work had a purpose, for she learnt how to smock and to make intricate delicate lace, too, with which she decorated her daughter’s little dresses.