The Victory Garden(95)

“I reckon we’re going to be all right here after all,” Nell Lacey said.

Mrs Soper glanced at Maud. “I reckon we are.”

“Now we need to start making plans,” Alice laughed. “We want the front counter in Selfridges department store.”

“Hark at you, with your big ideas!” Nell Lacey gave her a friendly shove. “You’ll be wanting to sell it in Paris next.”

“And why not?” Alice replied amid laughter.

At the same time, visitors started venturing out again, and Alice and Nell began offering cream teas at the pub. Mrs Upton started selling bottles of pop and sandwiches at the shop. Emily had been so busy and so preoccupied with getting their business going that she had put thoughts of the baby to one side. So she was taken by surprise when, as she was planting runner beans, broad beans and peas, she felt a sharp pain in her stomach.

I’ve pulled a muscle, was her first thought as she straightened up. But then the pain came again, this time wringing her whole middle section so violently that it took her breath away. Then realization dawned. It was happening. She was having the baby. She put her tools away in the shed methodically, then went up to the big house.

“Emily, is that you?” Lady Charlton called. “Where have you been?” She came out of the sitting room and saw Emily’s mud-spattered apron. “You’ve been working in that garden, you naughty girl, after I told you . . .” She stopped. “What’s the matter?”

“I think I’m having the baby,” Emily gasped, holding on to the banister to steady herself.

Lady Charlton went over to the bell and pulled it urgently. Daisy appeared and was ordered to get Emily up to bed and to send Simpson to fetch the doctor. Ethel was to boil water and find towels. Emily allowed herself to be undressed and put to bed, then lay there, feeling scared. She knew so little about what was about to happen, but she had heard women whisper about childbirth when she had still been at home. It was an awful ordeal, she knew. The worst pains ever. Women died. She stifled a cry as her body was overcome with pain. How long would it take before the doctor arrived? Would he be able to do anything to stop the pain? She wasn’t sure how long she lay there with the cycles of pain rising and receding, but then someone put a cold compress on her forehead.

“It’s all right, love. I’m here now,” said a voice, and Emily opened her eyes to see Alice sitting beside her. “Daisy came and got me,” she said. “You don’t want to go through this alone.”

Another wave of pain came, and Emily clenched her teeth.

“You squeeze my hand, and yell if you want to,” Alice said.

“Oh, Alice,” Emily gasped as the pain subsided. “Am I going to die?”

“Don’t talk such bloody rubbish,” Alice said. “You’re as strong as an ox. Not long now and it will all be over.”

Emily grasped Alice’s hand, her forehead bathed in sweat as the contractions came and went. Suddenly, there was a strange and new sensation. “Alice. I think it’s coming,” Emily said.

Alice pulled back the sheets and lifted Emily’s nightgown. “Bloody ’ell,” she muttered. “I think you’re right. I can see something.”

And as she finished speaking, the small, red bundle slithered out and lay between Emily’s legs. Alice grabbed a towel and lifted the baby. Little arms flailed, and the bundle let out a lusty and angry cry. Alice and Emily looked at each other in amazement.

“A little girl,” Alice exclaimed. “You’ve got a little girl.”

There was a tap on the door and the doctor came in. “Well,” he said, “I see you’ve managed everything perfectly well without my help. Well done.”

That evening, Emily sat up in bed with her daughter in her arms. The child had a light down of hair and stared up at Emily as if she was trying to make sense of things. Emily thought she was the most perfect thing she had ever seen.

“So what are you going to call her?” Lady Charlton asked.

“I was going to call her Robert if she had been a boy,” Emily said.

“Then call her Roberta.”

“Roberta.” Emily tried out the name. “It’s a bit austere for a little baby, isn’t it?”

“You’ll no doubt come up with a baby name for her.”

So Roberta she became.

The village women came to visit. Mr Patterson came, too.

“I’m afraid it’s now too late to give her a legitimate name,” he said when they were alone, “but my offer still stands. And I am prepared to adopt her legally if you wish.”

Emily took his hand. “I am so grateful, Reginald. You are such a good man. But it’s too soon for me. I loved someone so much, and he’s gone. I think it will take a while before anyone could take his place.”

“I do understand.” He nodded. “I also loved deeply once. I met her when I was suffering from consumption. She was in the same hospital. But she died. It was very painful. You and I have more in common than you imagine.” He bent to give her a light kiss on her forehead before he tiptoed out of the room.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Roberta, now known as Bobbie, was three weeks old, and Emily’s strength and energy had returned. The first batches of lotion and creams had sold out, and the women were waiting for Emily to make more. The first roses and many of the herbs were ready to be picked and dried. Emily refused to stay in bed any longer and escaped with the baby down to the cottage. For several days, she was so fully occupied that she hardly saw anything of Lady Charlton.