Catch a Husband
November fog crawled round the window pane waiting to choke any who ventured out into the damp acrid streets. Inside Rambert terrace the walls wept as nappies hung like defeated flags on the fireguard.
Maggie, sat with her first born son on her knee. The door opened and voice called,
“It's only me.”
Maggie took the nappy pin out of her mouth and deftly secured the triangular towelling. Her forehead wrinkled as her younger sister Vera entered the kitchen, “What are you doing here. Shouldn't you be at work?”
Instead of answering Vera said, “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Maggie waited. There had to be a reason for this morning visit. Had Vera got herself in debt again? If so she was unlucky the housekeeping had all been spent. “Well?” She said at last.
“I felt a bit queasy. The thing is I think I've caught.”
“What?” Maggie stared at her younger sister, her eyes wide with disbelief. “But you're not even engaged.” It was a daft remark, as if it made any difference but it was impossible to grasp that any girl, let alone her sister, would let a man... it was bad enough when you were wed.
“How did it happen?” Her voice was a strangled whisper.
Vera shrugged and giggled. “Don't be soft our Maggie. Even you know that.”
She wasn't even ashamed. Vera had no sense of shame.
“You'll have to get married quick.” But she knew it wouldn't be that simple. “Papa will kill you!”
“He'll not know.” She chuckled patting her stomach, “lots of babies are premature. This one likely to be at least six weeks early.”
“You'll not be able to have a church wedding.”
From the shrug of her shoulders Maggie knew Vera would defy convention. “You're a fool our Vera. It's bad enough having babies when you're wed.”
“Well, I will be wed. Lizzie Williams was setting her cap at my Les and I didn't want to finish up on the shelf. Anyway don't be such a moaning Minnie. I'm no different from anyone else. I'll bet you and Ken” -
Maggie's hand landed with a resounding slap. “You're a dirty minded slut our Vera. He never tried anything like that.” Not that he had much chance, Papa had never allowed them to be alone together. Ken hadn’t even kissed her properly until he came back from the war and they were engaged.
Vera rubbed her cheek. “Then he wants seeing to,” she snapped. “Courted you all that time without- come on Maggie your fibbing. No?” She laughed. “Then small wonder he keeps you in the club. Never mind, Mamma's had ten and she's none the worse for it.”
Maggie's mouth drooped. She hadn't thought her condition was obvious so soon especially as she had been full busted even before the baby. “You talk as though you don't care.”
Vera's dark eyes danced with mischief. She was a soufflé in a family of dumplings although she was as dark as her sister there the resemblance ended. She shrugged, “Why should I? He'll stand by me. He promised. It's his fault. He said you couldn't catch if you did it standing up and if I hadn't let him someone else would and I couldn't bear the thought-anyway men need it don't they?
“Tea or coffee?”
Maggie didn't answer, she shuddered to think of her sister behaving like a whore. “Standing up in the street, where anybody could see?” She gasped.
“Of course not. It was in the lav with the door bolted. I didn't intend being messed about any longer and like I said I knew he'd marry me once I'd caught.”
Maggie grimaced as she took the proffered tea. “In the lav. How could you?”
“Beggars can't be chooses anyway you close your eyes and you don't think of anything else do you?”
Only things like: tomorrow's dinner, whether you'll get the washing dry, how much you've got to last to the end of the week and pray God he’ll pull out in time. “You've told him then?”
“No, I wanted to be sure. I'll tell him tonight.”
“You'd best not waste any more time. You'll show soon enough.”
“Not me, I've bought a good corset ready.” She put down the cup. “Well I'd best be off. You won't say anything will you?”
“What do you take me for?”
“Bye then. Bye chickadee,” she said giving the baby a kiss.
Maggie watched her go. Poor fool! Did she think marriage was a bed of roses? Yet hadn’t she herself been just as afraid of being left on the shelf. So many men had died at the front there weren’t enough to go round. What else was there for a woman?
She raised the hood on the baby’s pram and secured the waterproof apron in place before wheeling it out into the yard. She had to empty the copper and scrub the floors before the next feed.
Maggie watched anxiously as her husband Ken ate his supper. If he enjoyed it he would be in a good mood otherwise she wouldn’t dare ask.
He moped up the last of the gravy with a thick slice of bread, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “That was all right. From Bob?” He asked.
As if they would get rabbit from anyone other than the local poacher.
“Do you mind if I nip round to Mamma's for half an hour? When I've done pots.” Maggie asked. She was worried about Vera, who usually popped in every day. It was a week now since she had seen her and she had been expecting her to call with the wedding date.
“Aye you get off. I'll wash up.” He fished in his pocket. “Here bring a bottle of Guinness back with you.”
She took the coin reluctantly. There'd be no putting him off tonight. Oh well she would soon have a respite. That was the one consolation to nine months of feeling only half alive. At least she could stay on her own side of the bed. Last time she was huge. In novels women had a mystic glow about them during pregnancy. What lies! There was no romance in being sick and wetting yourself every-time you coughed
Ken was a good man. Had never raised his hand to her nor his voice come to that. He wouldn't argue either; just walked away. She knew she was lucky but sometimes she wished-.
She took her coat from the peg at the bottom of the stairs and studied the man she had married just a fourteen months ago. He sat in his shirt sleeves, his collar off, the top three buttons open showing his smooth white chest. The sight offended her.
Papa never removed his jacket except, of course in the morning to shave. Papa never cut himself or walked about with bits of blood stained cigarette paper stuck on his face. And Papa's chest was decently covered with red gold hair.
Ken screwed up the newspaper which had been splashed with gravy. She sometimes wondered how they would manage without the Daily Herald. How would they draw the fire? And what would they use for bog paper? She sighed. She wished they could afford a bit of oilcloth for the table though. If only Ken wasn't so set against debt she could buy one on club.
The street lamps hissed and flickered as she walked the few yards to the next street where her family lived. The cobbles clacked beneath her boots as she turned down the entry to the back door. 'It's only me,' she called as she let herself in.
The familiar smell of the stock pot mingled with the scent of Papa's tobacco and the smoke that seeped from the fire in the black leaded grate. The family sat, as usual, round the wooden table with its orange patterned oil cloth.
Ada, Maggie's twelve year old sister, looked up as she entered.
“Cut for dealer. Oh hullo Maggie, are you playing?”
She shook her head. “Where's Vera?”
Ada jerked her thumb towards the stairs. “She's moping.”
Vera lay, fully dressed on the bed they had both shared such a short time ago. Her cheeks were puffy, her eyes red rimmed. She clutched Maggie's hands. “What am I going to do. What am I going to do?”
There was no laughter now in her eyes which were usually so merry. Her shoulders sagged and she seemed to have shrunk. There was no point in reproach.
“Would you go to Jackson's for me, Maggie? They say he sells some pills”-
“They don't work!”
Vera's mouth dropped open in surprise.
Jackson was the local herbalist and Maggie knew only too well that his so called occasional pills for ladies were no help. Nor was the oft repeated advice of a hot bath and bottle of Gin.
She put her arm round her sister. “I’ll think of something. Now cheer up and don't do anything daft. He's got to marry you. He's just got to!”
Mamma waited anxiously as Maggie came back to the living room. “Is every thing all right?”
Maggie kissed her cheek. “It will be, I'm sure.” Both women understood but couldn't speak of Vera's trouble. “I'll be off now, I promised Ken I wouldn't be long.”
“Did you get the Guinness?” He asked as she walked in the door. She handed him the silver coin. “I forgot.”
His mouth tightened.
“Our Vera's in trouble,” she burst out in mitigation of her memory lapse.
“What kind of trouble?”
“The usual. It's your brother Les. I warned her. I always knew he was no good.”
His eyes held hers till she felt the crimson rise in her cheeks.
“Has she told him?”
“He'll not wed her. He says she let him so how can he be sure she hasn't let others.”
“Has she?”
She flew at him then, fist flailing. “You rotten sod. You're all the same. You take a girl down then call her a whore.”
He caught her wrists in a vice. “Don't you use that language to me. When did I ever touch you afore we were wed? Christ I don't even get much of a chance now.”
“That's all you got wed for.”
His face whitened and she saw the deep creases in his cheeks as he compressed his lips. She flinched as he raised his hand. “And you, Maggie, why did you marry me?”
He picked up his coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To see Les. Maybe he'll give me a few tips.”
The door slammed behind him.
The baby began to cry. Maggie took him from his cot murmuring soothingly. “There, there, it will be all right. Daddy will soon be back.”
Her anger left her. Ken would sort things out. Les would listen to him. For the next few weeks she would be extra nice to him.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Ken tried to coerce his brother. Les was adamant and Ken’s fists were no match for his brother’s knife.
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