Lizzie's Tale Page 6

  She asked the butcher what he would recommend, saying that she needed to mind her money. He suggested some lamb neck chops, saying they would make a good stew, and this would keep for a few days in the cool weather. It was clear he gave her a lot more chops than she paid for and she said so.

  He just grinned at her and said, “Well we need to feed both you and that baby; you are looking thin and you need to be eating for two.

  By the time she was home Evie had returned. She told Lizzie, beaming with pleasure, what a good job she had done in cleaning the kitchen. Next thing she knew they were sharing another cup of tea and cake.

  Almost without intending to she found herself telling Evie about her life, not exactly about how the baby happened but enough so that Evie understood there was no man to help her, and that she was determined not to give the baby up for adoption.

  So a friendship was born and as the weeks passed Lizzie gained a sense of security and comfort. More and more she ate meals and did other things with Evie.

  Evie had never had children of her own, she had been engaged at the start of the First World War but the man had never come back, his fate unknown. She had tried to find out what happened but all they could ever tell her was that he was sent to the Somme and, along with thousands of others, was presumed dead, though really he just vanished, probably one of innumerable bodies in the mud.

  Evie said that ever since he went she had always regretted not giving spending those last few nights with him before he went away. She had always wondered, if she had, whether a child may have come, some part of him to remember and cherish later. But one could not remake ones choices. So, after the war, Evie’s life had drifted by without marriage or children ever coming. She inherited her parents’ house when they died, and her only brother had died ten years ago.

  So, with a large house and no family of her own, she had starting taking in boarders, mainly to pay for the upkeep of the house, but also to give her money for holidays and doing other little things she liked. She said that, while she was not wealthy, she had more than enough to meet all her needs.

  Now she treated Lizzie like the daughter that she might have wished for. To Lizzie this lady seemed to have become the kind grandmother she had never known.

  Evie’s only relative was a nephew, her brother’s son, Jack and, even though he lived nearby, she did not see him often or even like him. She told Lizzie that some came out as bad pennies and that, ever since he was little, he had a mean streak.

  Evie arranged for a midwife to examine Lizzie, someone she could trust not to bring in the authorities. It appeared that her pregnancy was normal and the baby was well grown.

  Lizzie’s pains came three weeks before the due time and the midwife was called, all was progressing fine, though the baby was a bit small. It hurt, but was less long and less bad than Lizzie expected. A couple hours later she was holding a small baby to her breast, the midwife pronounced the child perfectly healthy, if just a wee mite, who needed to be fed up.

  Lizzie called her Catherine Julia Renford, taking her best friend’s and her mother’s middle names. The midwife wrote the names on the official forms, mother Elizabeth Anne Renford, aged fifteen years and eight months; father unknown.

  Evie was so proud of mother and child; she could not resist telling all her friends, who came in an endless stream to visit, what a great mother Lizzie was and what a beautiful baby Catherine was. Lizzie declared to all that Evie was her new grandmother.

  Soon after the birth Lizzie found a pen and paper to write a letter to her own mother to tell her the news. It was not an easy letter, but at least she now had some good news to tell.

  When she had left Julie she had asked her, as a special favour, to go and see her Mum and, while not telling her the whole story, at least to tell her that she had gone to Melbourne because she was having a baby, and did not want people to try and take it away, and also that she would write to her once she was able to tell her something.

  When the letter was done she put it in an envelope and was about to post it. Then she had a thought, Perhaps she would she send her Mum a photo of her and the baby, with her wearing the dress her mother had bought for her birthday? She also wanted a photo of her and Evie, with Evie holding the baby, like a grandmother. It would help reassure her Mum that all was well.

  She asked Evie about this, and where they could get these photos done. She could tell Evie was thrilled with the idea. Later Evie told Lizzie she had arranged it for two days’ time, at a photography studio in the Esplanade which fronted the beach. The three of them walked there so proudly, she wearing the lovely dress from her mother under her coat. She pushed her baby in a pram that one of Evie’s friends had offered. The man set them up in his studio, in front of a large camera and with lights and flashbulbs popping.

  At first Lizzie was worried about the cost, but Evie was determined to pay. She said, “It’s not every day that I am blessed with both a new daughter and a granddaughter that feels like my own. I can’t wait for your own mother to see these photos and know you are well and safe. Plus, it’s not like I have so many other things I need to spend my money on.”

  They returned to inspect the photos two days later and decide which ones would be printed. They carefully examined all the contact prints with a magnifying glass and selected the six best ones. Evie ordered three copies of each, saying that she wanted them all in eight by ten inch size to go in a photo frame. They would be ready to collect in two days.

  Evie would have ordered copies of everything, but Lizzie insisted this was wasteful; they still had the negatives and could print more, later, if needed. Even these photographs seemed a huge expense to Lizzie, almost twenty pounds, but Evie would agree to no less.

  Before they left she paid for them all with a fifty pound note and gave Lizzie the change, saying Lizzie should use this to buy some clothes tomorrow, as a present from Evie to little Catherine. Lizzie felt as if her cup was overflowing with the stream of kindness from this dear old lady.

  Next morning, with a list of baby shops to visit, and leaving her baby in the crib under the watchful eye of Evie, she headed out. It was nine in the morning, and the baby, having just fed and settled to sleep, could be expected to sleep until lunchtime.

  This was Lizzie’s first outing on her own and she revelled in the freedom. Her body shape was almost returned, after the week since the birth. She felt well and incredibly pleased about the way her life had turned out. She selected two outfits for a tiny baby and two outfits that the lady promised her would fit a baby of six months. Then, as she still had enough money left, she chose one outfit to suit a child of twelve months. It seemed hugely extravagant but Evie said she was to spend every penny and not bring any change home.

  She still had almost ten shillings remaining so she brought a delicious caramel tart for them both to share over lunch; Evie had a sweet tooth and this was one of her favourites. Feeling well pleased, she headed for home.

  The house was quiet when she arrived which was unusual. As normal the other guests were all out during the day, gone to their various workplaces. But she was surprised as Evie often had the radio playing and could usually be heard banging around the kitchen, humming or singing to herself as she prepared lunch.

  But today there was no noise at all. She called out to Evie as she opened the door, but there was no reply and no other noise came back. Lizzie was gripped by a strong sense of uneasiness, this did not seem right. She went through to where her baby was; Catherine was still sleeping soundly, breathing regular and cheeks a bright pink. Her anxiety eased slightly.

  Perhaps Evie had popped out for a second and would be back before she knew it. But that did not seem right, she would not leave the baby and go off, it was just not something that she could ever imagine Evie doing.

  However, after calling again, she made herself sit for five minutes to wait and see if Evie came back in. The hands of the old grandfather clock opposite the kitchen table moved with excruciating slowness a
s Lizzie sat there waiting.

  Once this time had passed she decided she must investigate. She walked around the house, calling, going to every level; the silence was absolute. Finally she went to the door of Evie’s own room and knocked; no reply.

  The door swung open against her hand, so she looked inside. She spied a skirt and leg protruding from the other side of the bed. She hurried over. It was Evie, lying and not moving, though her eyes were part open. She might be trying to look at her but she neither spoke nor moved. The she saw a breath.

  Lizzie felt panic in her chest, something was badly wrong. Evie was alive, but seemed unconscious. She knew she must call an ambulance. She went to the phone and found the number for the police, written next to it. She rang and explained, the person said they would send someone round and would also ring for an ambulance straight away.

  Ten minutes later she heard the siren coming down the street and at once the place was swarming, two ambulance officers placed Evie on a stretcher and took her out, a policeman examined the place where she had been lying to see if there was any evidence of something suspicious. Inquisitive neighbours gathered around outside the front of the house.

  Lizzie asked the policeman whether she could go to the hospital with Evie. He said he would take her once he had finished his investigation but she had to remain here for now. So she went and picked up Catherine, who was due to wake, and placed her on her breast.

  As her baby sucked away she tried to think what else she needed to do. If Evie and her were at the hospital she needed to let other tenants know what had happened. So she wrote a note and pinned it just inside the front door, where all could see, telling them that Evie had been taken to hospital and they would all have to attend to their own dinners.

  The policeman took a statement from her. She told him what she knew, that she had left Evie in the morning to go out shopping and had returned to find her like this. The policeman, having conferred with the ambulance officers, said he thought that the old lady had a stroke. He offered to drop Lizzie, with her baby, at the hospital on the way back to the station.

  At the hospital Evie was propped in a bed, with lines and tubes running from her, and showed no response as Lizzie came into the room. Lizzie found a nurse and the nurse called a doctor. The doctor explained that it appeared that Evie had a massive stroke; she was alive but with no signs of consciousness. It was unclear whether she would live or die, but even if she survived it was unlikely that she would ever leave bed again. He also asked Lizzie if she was the next of kin.

  Lizzie said she was not, but told them that Evie had said she had only one relation, a nephew who lived somewhere nearby. This man’s first name was Jack, but she did not know his address and had never met him. The hospital advised they would ask the police to locate and contact him, but beyond this there was nothing anyone could do except wait and hope for a miracle.

  Lizzie sat there for the afternoon, with Cathy on her lap, holding Evie’s hand and talking to her. There was no response, either from her eyes or her muscles, but Lizzie persisted, wanting to tell this woman of the love she felt for her.

  As the afternoon drifted away Lizzie slowly realised that Evie was in another place, beyond hearing or knowing of this world.

  Finally, in the late afternoon, Lizzie gathered her things and, carrying her baby in her arms, walked slowly and sadly back to the house. There was a sombre mood in the house and with all the tenants. She told them what little she knew of Evie’s condition.

  Next day she wheeled her baby, in the pram, to the hospital. The situation was unchanged, Evie hovered in a twilight world, but Lizzie and the hospital staff sensed she was slipping away. After staying with her through the morning and into the mid afternoon, Lizzie walked home with a heavy heart.

  As she approached the house she suddenly remembered the photographs. They were due for collection today. So she diverted to the shop. The man had them ready in a rectangular cardboard package. She did not open them but carried them home thinking, Tomorrow if she still lives, I will bring them and hold them up in front of her in the hope she can see something.

  She was woken early the next morning, not long after daylight, by a policeman knocking at the front door. It was the man she had met two days ago. He told her, in a sympathetic manner, that Evie had died in the night. She asked what they had done with her body. The man said it had been taken to the morgue, until they were able to get in touch with her nephew, to determine the funeral arrangements. They had not managed to locate him yet.

  All that day Lizzie sat around the house feeling lost, she could not think of anything to do. She did not have information about funeral arrangements that she could communicate to Evie’s friends and she did not feel free to do anything further with Evie’s things.

  She had tidied up her bedroom and other parts of the house, but she felt it was not her place to do anything beyond this. It was not her right to look through Evie’s papers or pack up her things, even though she knew that Evie would have been happy if she did.

  She was down to less than twenty pounds of her own money, so there was little she could afford to do in terms of making arrangements herself and, with Evie gone, she knew that she must search for work.

  Evie had said that she would pay her to do house-keeping work here, when the baby permitted it, but this was no longer likely to happen. She knew she must get out and take some action now, move herself, but she was gripped by a sense of melancholy, almost despair, at the loss of this dear friend, despite knowing her for less than two months.

  Late in the afternoon, as the last light was fading, there was a knock on the door. A big burly man, with a hard looking face, stood at the door. She asked if she could help him. He announced he was Evie’s nephew, Jack, and the will had passed this property to him.

  So now he was here to find out who was staying and what money was due to him.

  He asked Lizzie who she was. It was said in a cold and dismissive manner; perhaps he assumed she was a servant. She told him she lived in the basement, with her child, and was the person who had found Lizzie and called the ambulance.

  He snorted with contempt, “Better to have let the old bag die and saved the expense,” he said.

  Lizzie could feel a flush of anger rising in her cheeks, How dare he talk about his aunt like that, she thought.

  He continued, “I am going to her room to see if I can find the rent books and see who owes me money. When is your rent due?

  She told him she paid for three months at the start and still had over five weeks to go before her next payment was due.

  He replied sarcastically. “That sounds like a likely story. Unless you can show me a rent receipt, I will give you until this Saturday, you can be out then, or you can pay me six pounds a week from here on, I am given to understand that was her standard rate.”

  Lizzie felt her heart sink. Somehow, after she had paid Evie the money at the time she moved in, a receipt had never got done. It was promised for the next day, but then as their friendship grew it had been forgotten. Perhaps Evie had written it out and left it in her own room, but she could not go there now to look. Within a few days of her coming here there had been an unspoken agreement that, while Evie lived, Lizzie would help with the house duties and, in return, she would have a place to stay for as long as needed, at no further cost.

  She imagined she would stay on here for at least a couple years, until her baby was of an age where she could safely return to her mother in Sydney. Who knew, she might even try and get her mother and David to come and live here; the house had plenty of room for them all; Evie had hinted at this.

  Lizzie stopped listening to the man in front of her as this conversation played out inside her head. She realised now he was talking to her again.

  He said, “Did you say you had a child, where is your husband?’

  Lizzie did not reply.

  He looked at her with a knowing look, “Oh, so you are one of those, are you; mother to a fatherless bastard, an
d making your living by working on your back. Well you can pay me in kind for services rendered, twice a week on your back, along with doing the house work; that should do it. We can begin that arrangement now, I am well ready”

  Lizzie flushed bright red. She shook her head.

  “What, cat got your tongue, too good for the likes of me, are we. We will see about that. Well, you can think on it overnight. I will take a down payment of the first instalment in the early morning, when I come back. No need for you to get up to meet me, you can be waiting, full ready for me to take my pleasure of you in your own bed then; just leave your door unlocked. Otherwise I will see you out of here with no further delay.”

  With that he strode up to Evie’s room. She heard the door slam behind him. Later, after she heard him leave, she decided she would look for the rent receipt, then at least then she could ask for her deposit back as well as have some time to find another place. But the door was now firmly locked.

  Lizzie did not know what to do, all night she tossed and turned with worry. Could she find a job that would allow her to keep her baby? She could not bear the thought of lying with this awful man and letting him do to her what those other men had done before. But she had a child to feed and nowhere to go. Was there any other choice?

  Finally, with the dawn light, her mind was made up; she would rather go and live on the street than subject herself to this man. Even if she was reduced to doing what he asked of her, going with men for money, in order to feed her child, it would not be with him. Not after the way he had talked about his aunt. Lizzie knew she may not be that good but she was better than that; she felt resolute and her mind was clear.

  So she packed her bag, tied it shut, picked up her child and went and gathered her other meagre food and possessions from the kitchen. She put them all in the pram, along with her baby, and walked down onto the street. Even though the pram was not really hers she knew that Evie’s friend, who had offered it, would not mind her taking this one thing.