Read Online Empty Vessels by Marina Pascoe - Free Book Online Page B

ʼour. We were distraught. The doctor who came said it was just one of those things that ʼappens – but Mary never believed that; she blamed ʼerself. The little boy ʼad come early like. The pains came while Mary was lifting a huge pan full of water for the laundry. We didnʼt ʼave much money at that time and she used to take in washing – I didnʼt like it, mind, I said weʼd manage, but she was very strong-minded was Mary and always said a few shillings extra would come in ʼandy, ʼspecially what with the new baby on the way. She had such ʼigh ʼopes for our baby, Mr Bartlett. Boy or girl, she said, theyʼd be successful, get on and make a name for theirselves, you know, do better and ʼave more than we. She thought she brought the little boy into the world too early because she ʼadnʼt been sensible and that ʼe didnʼt ʼave a fair chance because ʼe was so small. I tried to ʼelp ʼer through it, but ʼow can you? We got through the funeral, it broke my ʼeart to see ʼis little coffin lowering down into that grave; ʼeʼs buried in the cemetery at Swanpool – with ʼis mother now, God rest their dear little souls, anʼ I go there every week, regular, to see ʼem both.ʼ
    Bartlett felt for the man – he knew how he himself felt when he found out that John had been killed. He touched the rough, clenched fist which lay on the table;
    Ê»Please go on, Percy.ʼ
    Ê»Well, after that, I still wanted children – so did Mary really, but she was too afraid that it would ʼappen all over again.ʼ He looked up at Boase, Ê»Iʼm sorry to say this in front of you, young man, but, after that, she wouldnʼt let me go near ʼer, you understand these things, Mr Bartlett, sir, she was that afraid. I knew she was desperate to have a child but she was just too scared. Anyway, after about a year, someone we knew who worked at the Union told us there was a little baby girl who ʼad been born there and, poor little thing, ʼer mother ʼad died giving birth to ʼer. Well, we was lucky enough to be offered the child and we adopted ʼer. It made both of us so ʼappy – she brought joy to our lives like I canʼt tell you. Mary even seemed to be getting over Nathaniel a bit. Ivy was such a lovely girl growing up and then, suddenly, she changed. She must ʼave been about eighteen or nineteen. She would stay out all night, always out with soldiers that was ʼere durinʼ the war; she was rude to ʼer mother and me – in short she was uncontrollable. Then, about three years ago, we found out ʼow she was makinʼ ʼer money. Well, I think thatʼs what finished Mary off. She was such a respectable woman and we brought Ivy up to be the same. In the end, Maryʼs ʼeart got so bad, she was taking pills for everything and she couldnʼt carry on no more. I lost ʼer two years ago next April.ʼ
    Bartlett stood up.
    Ê»Did the workhouse indicate to you who Ivyʼs natural parents were, sir?ʼ
    Ê»No, Mr Bartlett, they didnʼt – we didnʼt want to know really, we were just glad to ʼave the little girl.ʼ
    Bartlett apologised.
    Ê»Iʼm sorry we had to pry. I know that was hard for you. Weʼll leave you alone now.ʼ
    The two men left the shed and, walking back through the dockyard, returned to the station. Bartlett sat at his desk while Boase went to find some tea. They sat down together to have their drink and the younger man produced a brown paper bag from his pocket.
    Ê»Fancy a sausage roll, sir?ʼ he asked, offering the bag.
    Ê»No, I told you before, you need a woman – you canʼt carry on eating like that; donʼt you ever sit down to a meal apart from when youʼre at our house?ʼ
    Ê»I get a meal at my digs in the evening – not as nice as Mrs Bartlettʼs and Ireneʼs cooking though.ʼ
    Ê»Iʼm