Chapter Thirty
Kate lay with her eyes wide open. It was dark in the room and she’d been awake for hours, listening to the soft breathing of dear Ida.
She wished for the arms of sleep to hold her and take her to another place but they were not open and she could not fall.
Her hands wandered to her belly and stroked the taut skin.
It wouldn’t be long now before the mistress noticed.
She had birthed five children of her own; the signs would not escape her.
She’d been lucky not to have the morning sickness.
Kate had managed to keep her widening waist from all except Ida, who had noticed the safety pin holding her skirt together and observed the absence of Kate’s monthly rags.
Ida said that her secret was safe with her but that eventually the truth would be obvious.
Kate knew she was right but she needed time to think.
What was she to do? Her condition would not go unnoticed for much longer.
The time was coming and coming soon when she’d no longer be in the employ of Mr and Mrs Winton.
How could she go home and place the burden of her problems upon her mother’s shoulders?
She’d had news that her mother was pregnant again.
Her father and Dot could not be the only providers for their family, Fred had gone and the prospects of her being able to find work with a child to look after were slim.
Kate’s mind surged with the swell of all that she had done and all that she could not do.
Every direction she thought to turn in seemed barred to her.
Ida stirred and sighed. A whisper of light from the street lamp appeared in the corner of the window and Kate could see that the creeping fingers of frost were grasping at the panes.
She pulled the blankets up to her ears and stretched her legs.
The night cramps were a curse, they were always the thing that woke her and there was nothing to do but squeeze and flex her toes and wait for the pain to pass.
At least she could still reach her toes, for the time being anyway.
‘You awake, Kate?’ Ida croaked. Ida had been suffering with a cold and sore throat for several days but there was no lying in bed with a hot water bottle and beef tea for the likes of them.
The servants had to keep going through all their ailments, mild or more serious.
There were plenty of others waiting, ready to step into their shoes if they faltered, as Mrs Bowden often reminded them.
‘Yes, I’m awake,’ Kate replied.
‘Time for us to get going then,’ Ida said, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed.
She threw a shawl around her shoulders, then poured water from the jug and splashed her face.
She shivered and flung off her nightgown, dressing as quickly as she could whilst keeping up a steady stream of chatter.
Kate wondered where she got the energy from first thing in the morning.
By the time they were both dressed, Ida had stopped talking and Kate could feel that she was building up to saying something important. As Ida handed Kate her apron, she looked first at Kate’s swollen midriff and then at her face.
‘We have a few moments before we need to light the fires. We have to talk, Kate,’ Ida said.
Kate took in the sudden change of tone in Ida’s voice and the seriousness of her expression. Ida reached for Kate’s hand and sat her down on the bed next to her.
‘I’ve been asking a few questions on your behalf,’ she said to a worried Kate.
‘Questions? What about?’
‘The workhouse,’ Ida replied. ‘It’s not far away. It’s in Greenwich. What else are you going to do? We agreed that you can’t go on much longer.’
‘But the workhouse! I could die there, Ida, and no one would care,’ Kate whispered.
‘I would care,’ Ida said.
Kate felt the slight pressure of Ida’s hand.
Her attempts at reassurance were a sign of her true friendship but Kate knew that she would have to go through this alone.
No one could help her now. She was to become a mother and she’d have to give birth in a strange place with strangers, instead of in her own village surrounded by her own family.
She couldn’t tell them, she couldn’t go there.
How could she? The thought of her own mother, now pregnant with her sixth child, made Kate catch her breath.
She tried to stem the flow of her tears but they would not be stopped.
She leaned her head against Ida’s breast and wept for everything that she must lose and the fear of what was to come.
‘Come,’ Ida said, ‘we must go and tell Mrs Bowden.’
Kate wiped her eyes and stood upright. She pulled back her shoulders and took a deep breath. She knew she just had to get on with saying it and hoped Mrs B wouldn’t take it too badly.
When Mrs B saw the serious expressions on Kate and Ida’s faces as they entered the kitchen, she asked, ‘What’s up with you two? What’s happened? Tell me now. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.’
‘It is,’ Kate said. She looked straight at Mrs B. ‘There’s no way to say this gently. I’m pregnant.’
Mrs B flopped down in her chair, her face pale and her hands wringing her apron. She remained silent for a long time and Kate braced herself for the onslaught, but Mrs B simply let out a huge sigh and said, ‘Well, there’s nothing to be done then.’
Kate and Ida looked at each other and waited. Finally, Mrs B broke her silence.
‘My sister had an illegitimate child,’ she said. ‘My nephew is a lovely boy. He’s grown up to be such a lovely young man, looks after his mother so well. But she had a hard time of it. You’ll need all the help you can get. I suppose the father’s not around?’
Kate looked down.
‘I’ll ask you no questions and you can tell me no lies, Kate. No doubt you’ll get enough of a stripping down from the master and mistress but you must tell them and very soon. They are not going to take it well. When’s the baby due?’
‘End of June,’ Kate replied.
‘Further on than you look then. And I thought I had a second sense for these things. You’re not showing much.’
Kate and Ida exchanged glances. Without Ida’s help she couldn’t have hidden the truth for so long.
‘You know it will mean you’ll have to leave, don’t you, Kate? Can you go home to Hampshire?’ Mrs B asked.
‘They’ve got enough mouths to feed. I can’t add to their struggles,’ Kate replied.
‘Well, the only alternative is . . .’
‘I know, the workhouse,’ Kate said.
‘I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Is there no one else you can go to?’ Mrs B said.
Kate shook her head.
* * *
The meeting with Mr and Mrs Winton went as badly as Kate expected it to with shouts of recrimination and demands to know who had fathered this child.
Kate wouldn’t say. The deep sense of guilt inside her felt like boiling oil erupting over raw skin, her secret must stay within for no good could come of voicing the truth. She would not be believed.
‘Well, there’s nothing for it but to give you your notice,’ Mrs Winton said. ‘You bring shame upon this household and upon yourself.’
Mr Winton was not as sparing with his words. He called her all sorts of unpleasant names and hurled abuse at her.
‘You’re no better than a street walker,’ he said. ‘You must leave immediately. You’re a bad influence on our children and I can’t have you under this roof. Those who behave like guttersnipe will end in the gutter. You mark my words.’
Mrs Winton winced at her husband’s anger and looked at Kate with great sorrow. She expressed her disappointment in her but implored her husband to at least let her stay until they could find a replacement.
‘I will give you one week to make arrangements to leave,’ Mr Winton said storming out of the room.
‘You must find a way to explain your departure to the children,’ Mrs Winton said. ‘This is a sorry mess, Kate. Now get Ida to bring me some of my medicine, I have a headache coming on.’
Kate was angry at the way Mr Winton had spoken so cruelly to her but she was also sorry to have let Mrs Winton down.
Mrs Winton had been so kind to her. Yet she had no regrets about having given herself to Philip.
She had no regrets for loving him with all her heart.
She waited that evening until the whole household had retired to bed and then sat on her own in the kitchen reliving the happier times she had spent here and trying to work out what she would say to Clara and the children.
She wasn’t looking forward to it, neither was she looking forward to the workhouse.
She prayed that there was some other way.
Kate decided that the best place to inform Clara was away from the family home, at the hospital. So, on what was to be her last Sunday there, she took Clara to one side and told her about the baby. Clara’s initial reaction was one of total surprise.
‘I can’t believe that I didn’t notice, Kate. I must be so preoccupied with myself and my work that . . .’
‘You’ve been busy. My clothes are loose and I’ve done a good job of hiding it.’
‘You have but who’s the father, Kate? Have you told him? Is it your soldier chap you’ve been seeing?’
Kate didn’t reply. Clara looked at her.
‘Whoever the father is, you must tell him. He has a responsibility,’ Clara said. ‘You can’t face this alone.’
Kate looked at Clara and a tear trickled down her cheek. She couldn’t say it, she couldn’t say his name, even if it meant losing her friendship with Clara.
‘All right, well I can’t force you to tell me,’ Clara eventually said, ‘but I’m concerned for you, Kate. I presume you’ve told my parents?’
Kate’s tears were flowing freely now. She tried to answer but all that would come were sobs. Eventually she managed to whisper, ‘Yes’.