Despite the Angels - By Madeline A Stringer Page 0,36
man now. Oh, God, what a ridiculous thing to be, at my age. Dad was thirty four when I was born, I’m only two thirds that. And Mum was a nurse and knew how to look after babies. Kathleen doesn’t know much that’ll be useful. Maybe it’s all instinctive, and she’ll just know? He looked out of the bus windows, at the crowds going home, and realised all their mothers weren’t nurses, and they all seemed to be upright and walking despite that severe handicap. Even Kathleen herself: her mother was the doziest woman he’d ever met, but so kind and so good for Kathleen.
“I’d like to call one of the babies Clare,” David was sitting beside Kathleen’s bed, eating her grapes. Kathleen was lying half propped up, staring out the window. She turned listless eyes towards him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just seem to want a daughter named Clare.”
“Again? But this isn’t her, neither of them are Moonsong, you can call her whatever you like. Be brave, live a little. Not that it matters.”
“Clare’s okay. Which one is she?” Kathleen swivelled her eyes to the two little cots by her bed. David got up and went around to look at the babies. They looked much the same, even though he had been told they were not identical. He pointed at the nearer baby.
“This one?”
“Okay,” Kathleen looked out the window again. “And what are you calling the other one?”
“You choose. Didn’t you have a long list of names ticked in that book?”
“None of them seem right anymore. None of this does. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have babies, shouldn’t be trying to work out what to call them, shouldn’t have got sick, it’s just not fair!” Kathleen started to wail. David sat on the bed and stroked her arm and shrugged apologetically at the woman in the next bed, who had turned curious eyes his way. Kathleen shut her eyes and slid further down in the bed. David fiddled with the controls of the little radio he had brought in for Kathleen, hoping she would be soothed by listening to music. It sprang into life with an Irish jig. Kathleen mumbled. David leant forward to hear her.
“Turn that rubbish off. Is there nothing decent on the radio these days? I wish they hadn’t stopped Radio Caroline. Fascists.” She fell silent.
“Yea, I liked Caroline too. Pity about it. Though there’s a rumour it might get going again, off Holland.”
“Caroline.”
“Mmm.”
“There. I made up my mind about something. I thought I never would again. Good for me.” Kathleen shut her eyes again and gave a great sigh.
“What did you decide, Kay?”
“The baby’s name. Caroline. Clare and Caroline. Now go away, I’m exhausted.”
David stood up and leaned down over the babies. “Bye-bye Clare, Bye-bye Caroline. I love you. Love you too, Kay.” He kissed her.
“Maybe.”
Chapter 14
“Oh heck,” said Kathleen, as she leant her arms on the bedroom windowsill and gazed out into the grey light of the February morning. “Would you look at that. Another dreary day to get through. It’ll rain again. It always does. It’s horrible here. What am I going to do with those babies?” A tear formed slowly in one eye and threatened to spill over.
“OK. I’m off. Mind yourselves, girls,” said David, shrugging into his coat. He had his head into the bedroom and was grinning at the babies. They were head to toe in the cot, but both looking up at the mobile twisting above them in the draught, their newborn eyes still slightly crossed. “You too, Kay. Be good.”
“What else can I do, stuck here with two squalling brats? It’s fine for you, you get out of this tiny dump and see people and things. I just go on and on. I want to get away. Somewhere bright. Anywhere. Just away.”
“It’s February. Nowhere would be bright, it’s the winter.”
“I know it’s the bloody winter. That’s the problem.” Kathleen sat on the bed and sighed, long and loud. “Just get me out of here before I go mad.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a wail, as she ran her fingers through her hair, again and again.
“OK. Just leave your hair alone,” said David. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“It’s your fault I feel like this and it’s my hair. I’ll do what I want.”
“No, it is not my fault. You wanted a baby. Your wretched sister had one, so you had to have one too. Amazing her name isn’t Jones.”