Open Writing

"They've already got four that they can't feed. Some people never know when to stop."

I was standing in the queue in the top shop. We called it that because it was at the very top of our street, on the corner where it met Sedan Street.

They sold a bit of everything and were not averse to putting your bill `on the slate' until the next pay day. My ears pricked up at the conversation I could hear across the counter.

"Mrs Bradley," the shopkeeper, Mr Nichols was saying, "you really ought to keep your voice down. Little pigs have ears." He inclined his head in my direction while he kept looking at with the women.

"Well, can't a body speak the truth these days? I'm only saying what everyone else is thinking." Mrs Bradley said without dropping her voice.

She gathered her groceries from the counter and swept past me with such force that I lost my balance and had to sit sideways on a sack of potatoes until she'd gone.

When it was my turn to be served, Mr Nichols looked a bit embarrassed and sympathetic, and wasn't his usual chatty self.

I could see a huge jar of lollies on the counter. I tried not to look at them because I'd only got the money which mum had given me for a loaf and a bottle of milk.

I was surprised when he opened the jar and pushed a lolly towards me. I was reluctant to pick it up and said I hadn't any money to pay for it. He shook his head and said, "No, Cathy, take it. It doesn't matter about the money."

Dad always said that Mr Nichols could be a bit stingy, so I knew the lolly was to make up for the nasty things Mrs Bradley had been saying about mum and dad. I didn't care what she thought. I was going to have a new baby sister. Mum had told me it could be any day now.

I woke the next morning with a start. It was still dark. There were muffled noises coming from downstairs. I crept down the attic stairs and stood on the landing, in my night gown, not knowing
what to do next.

There was noise coming from the front bedroom and also from the downstairs kitchen. I was still standing there, frightened and bewildered, when dad appeared on the stair, carrying a pile of towels and things.

"Oh Cathy. He said, looking very distracted, "Be a good girl, go and get dressed then put the kettle on. Make a big pot of tea and I'll be down in a few minutes. Baby's coming"

I was so excited I forgot how many teaspoons of sugar I'd put in the tea and hoped dad wouldn't notice.

A knock on the back door made me jump so bad that I dropped the sugar bowl, spilling its contents all over the table. I was trying to refill it, scooping the sugar off the tablecloth, when I heard dad answer the door.

He took the lady who was carrying a black bag upstairs. I knew she was the midwife because my friend Jenny told me that the midwife brings the new baby in a black bag.

I tidied up a bit and fretted about the tea going cold. When they came into the kitchen, all smiles, I ran up to dad and said,
"Is she here? Can I see her?"

"You've got a new baby brother." Dad said, putting his hands on my shoulders and beaming from ear to ear.

"Mother and baby are doing well Mr Croft so I'll call in tomorrow. If there's any problem send for me." The midwife smiled at us and walked to the door, her shoes making a squeaking sound on the lino.

"You can't go and see them just now Cathy, because they're asleep. I want you to go to aunty Bessie's for me. Tell them the good news. Here's the bus fare. You should be able to get there and back before school starts."

I tied the four pennies in my hankie and hurried out.

"You're an early bird." The conductor said.

I ran to the back seat. I wanted to be on my own. I was confused and sick at heart. Why had dad let the midwife leave us another boy? I'd already got three brothers. When I told mum I wanted a sister she had said we'll have to see, but she'd got that twinkle in her eye, so I'd thought it would be all right.

I knocked on aunty Bessie's door as I stood breathless on the well scrubbed and pumiced step. No-one answered so I went round the back, still no answer.

I looked up and down the deserted street wondering what to do. I'd nothing in my pocket except the two pennies bus fare and my hankie, so how could I leave a message?

I could find a chalky stone in the garden and write on the path, but I didn't think aunty Bessie would like that. I decided to collect a pile of little stones and write `it's a boy' with these.

I hunted in the garden for the largest, shiniest pebbles and put the message half way down the concrete path, with a border of black charcoal round it.

The same bus was waiting at the terminus. I was the only passenger again but this time I didn't escape from the conductor. He followed me down the aisle and started quizzing me about my early morning jaunt and didn't let up chatting until I was off the bus.

I hadn't been listening to what he was saying. My brain was in a whirl, trying to figure out why dad had sent me all this way on the bus just to tell them it was a boy. Now if it had been a girl - I'd have walked round the world to tell the news.

"Crikey, that didn't take long." Dad chuckled, as I sat panting at the kitchen table while he handed me a slice of bread and jam.

"They weren't in dad, so I left a message made with little stones." I said, as I nibbled round the crust. I had decided to save the strawberry till last.

Dad looked at me with that little smile of his that said you're kidding me, and then he gave me a kiss on my forehead.

"Don't look so glum lass. You won't be late for school." He added squeezing my shoulders.

"But dad, I thought we were having a girl this time. I've been wanting a sister ever since Jonny was born."

"I know you're disappointed love. We all wanted a little girl this time, but you can't choose, you see. You have to love what you get. Come on, you've just got time to have a peek at him before you go to school. By the way, mum and me think you aught to choose his name. What do you think to that?"

"Let's call him Bobby." I said when I saw him with his beautiful round face and thick shock of black hair, "'Cos he's as cuddly as a bunny."

Mum and dad looked at each other and smiled.

"Robert Croft it is then." Dad said, "I'll register him tomorrow."