CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The months after mum’s death were just a blur of savage emotions.
The shock of losing her was like a physical blow. I felt paralysed with grief. The only reason I was able to get out of bed during those first few weeks was because my daughter needed me.
Aunt Mildred, who was really my great-aunt, took charge of the funeral and looked after the baby while I slept or showered. And I was aware, through the haze of grief, that I had a lot to thank her for. She was my only living relative now that Mum was gone. It would be Aunt Mildred I’d need to go to now for advice on bringing up my baby.
She talked a lot during those first few days, her sharp voice nipping constantly at my head and making it ache. Drowning in grief, I closed my eyes, just wanting to shut her out. Her words weren’t penetrating my brain. I just kept thinking I needed to reserve every last ounce of strength for my daughter.
I remember Aunt Mildred sitting me down after the funeral and telling me I needed to start packing because I’d have to come and live with her.
I’d stared at her, shocked.
It seemed unbelievable to think of now, but the thought of where we’d be living now that Mum had gone had never even occurred to me.
I suppose that as I’d moved through the nightmare days, putting all my sagging energy into the never-ending round of feeding and nappy-changing, I’d been blearily imagining continuing to live at Bogg House, just the two of us. Our landlady Linda had been around a lot to help me with the baby, and not once had she touched on the subject of unpaid rent.
‘You have no income so you obviously can’t stay here,’ said my great-aunt, seeing my confusion. ‘Now, I’ve given the landlady the required month’s notice. We’ll pack up your things and we can be gone in a week or so.’
I was struggling to process this – my mind was hazy, my head stuffed with cottonwool these days – but despite that, I knew that what she was telling me was unavoidable.
We couldn’t stay here.
So I nodded. ‘I’ll start packing.’ In my mind, I was running through the things we’d have to take. We’d have to pack up the whole nursery but I didn’t think everything would fit into Aunt Mildred’s small, two-bedroom flat in North London.’
‘We’ll need a van to take everything,’ I said.
‘A van? Nonsense! I’m not paying for transport. And anyway, we won’t need it. Everything will fit in my car.’
‘But what about the cot?’
She frowned. ‘The cot? Well, we won’t be needing that, will we?’
I swallowed, the first sign of dread creeping in. ‘But... where will she sleep?’
Aunt Mildred sighed. ‘Rhona, we’ve talked about this. Weren’t you listening? The baby will be adopted. For your sake as well as hers.’
Adopted?
The word didn’t seem to make sense at first.
But looking at Aunt Mildred’s determined expression... the slightly defensive set of her chin... her meaning became all too clear.
I shook my head. ‘She’s mine. She’s my daughter. She belongs with me. I’m never giving her away.’
‘But you have to, Rhona,’ she said, more gently this time. ‘You’re far too young to be saddled with a child to look after. And it would be ridiculous from a practical point of view as well. There’s simply no room in my flat for a baby.’
‘She can share my room,’ I insisted, panic rising inside. ‘I could get a single bed so there’s more room for her cot and everything in your spare room...’
But Aunt Mildred’s firm shake of the head ended my hopes. ‘Absolutely not. I do not want to live with a screaming baby. Not at my age. And just think what a gift you’ll be giving to some poor folk who can’t have children. She’ll have a much better life with two parents who can give her everything you can’t. It’s the right thing to do, Rhona. You know it is.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not going to London. I’m staying here with my baby.’
She flicked her eyes impatiently to the ceiling. ‘And how, might I ask, do you imagine you will live? Without money to pay the rent or buy food and nappies?’
I stared at the floor. ‘The council will give me a place to live and I’ll have benefits,’ I muttered.
‘Right. And you really think that living in a dingy bedsit or a bed and breakfast would be the best place for this little one to start her life?’
Trembling, I glared at her, every atom in my body rejecting the idea of adoption. How could she even think of it? ‘I’ll get a job and earn money so we can rent a place.’
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘And who’s going to look after the baby while you go out to work? A child-minder would gobble up all of your wages.’
‘Well, I’ll find a way. I’m her mum. She needs me. I’m never giving her away.’
Aunt Mildred sighed and got up. ‘I’ll leave you to have a think about it. And when you’ve thought hard, you’ll know that this is the right thing to do.’
I lay in bed that night with my baby snuggled next to me. I knew I shouldn’t be doing it. She should be safely in her cot. But I also knew that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Aunt Mildred’s harsh voice telling me her plans for us just kept going round and round in my head, as I forced myself to think about what was best.
Not what was best for me .
What was best for my baby.
And by the time dawn crept into the window, I knew the answer.
*****
When they took her away, I cried for days on end.
Aunt Mildred was of the opinion I should block the whole ‘disgraceful episode’ out of my mind. She told me I could take nothing away from Bogg House that would be a reminder, because that would only prolong my tears.
I was filled with anger that she should dismiss my pregnancy and the birth of my gorgeous daughter in such a way. ‘A disgraceful episode’. But I told myself she was probably just bitter because she’d never married or had children herself.
I knew that if I wanted to save some mementoes, I’d have to make sure Aunt Mildred didn’t discover them. So I put my precious keepsakes in a small wooden jewellery box of Mum’s and I hid it inside the fireplace in my bedroom, reaching up and sliding it onto the smoke shelf. I’d take it with me, in my handbag, the day we left Bogg House forever.
But in the end, our departure was so sudden that in my despair at leaving, I forgot all about my keepsakes box in the fireplace until we were out of the house and Aunt Mildred had locked up for the last time, and we were driving away.
When I remembered, I knew she wouldn’t turn back. There was no point in even asking. She’d want to know what I’d left behind and keepsakes weren’t allowed.
I hated her in that moment, as I turned my tear-soaked face to the passenger window.
But I vowed that one day I’d return to Bogg House to rescue my mum’s little jewellery box with its precious contents...