Daughter of Mine. Anne Bennett

of their race, which they claimed was happening in Germany.

      ‘What the hell are we supposed to do about it?’ Steve said. ‘Declare war for a handful of Jews, when we’ve not recovered from the last one?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Mike answered. ‘But I don’t like this Hitler. Anyway, I’m getting a wireless, see what is going on in the world.’

      ‘You can, man, you have the electric in.’

      ‘You can get one too,’ Arthur said. ‘Even without electric. You get one with a battery and get an accumulator with it for power, like, and get it charged up every so often. They do it at any garage.’

      ‘I’ll certainly look into it,’ Steve promised. ‘I suppose it’s probably as well to know.’

      Lizzie began having pains just a few days before Christmas and her knickers were stained with blood when she went to the lavatory, so she went for Violet.

      She was in the bed, warmed by the hot-water bottle, when Doctor Taylor arrived, closely followed by a frantic Steve.

      ‘She might be miscarrying,’ Doctor Taylor said, ‘and then again it might be a warning that she’s doing too much. Only time will tell. Call me if you’re worried.’

      Worried! Steve was beside himself. But he needn’t have fretted quite so much for the neighbours were all willing to give Lizzie a hand with things till she was on her feet again, and the doctor was pleased when he called again. ‘It might be better,’ he told Steve, ‘if sexual activity were to cease for a little while. Best to be on the safe side.’

      Steve wanted this child as much as Lizzie, and wanted it, son or daughter, to be born hale and hearty; and yet, ‘God,’ he confided to Stuart, ‘it could be months. I’ll be a raving loony by then.’

      ‘There’s an alternative,’ Stuart told him. ‘Like I’ve said before. You’re often doing the woman a favour.’

      ‘Oh I don’t know, I’ve not been with another woman since…well, for months.’

      A month later, Steve was burning up with frustration. ‘She won’t know owt about it,’ Stuart encouraged. ‘How could she, and how would it hurt her anyroad?’

      ‘You’re right,’ Steve decided. ‘She needn’t know a thing about it.’

      But Lizzie did know, or at least had reasonable doubt, for the odour of cheap perfume lingering around Steve and the smell of cosmetics on the shirt he’d worn were apparent enough. Later, she had further evidence, for she knew the marks on his neck that she saw when he stripped for his wash had nothing to do with her. However, Lizzie was too ashamed to voice her suspicions and far too nervous of Steve to challenge him about it, and so she drew a veil of secrecy over it all.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      Niamh Mary Gillespie was born on 30^th May 1934, a day before her cousin Deidre was born to Tressa, and Steve’s delight was sincere and enthusiastic.

      He was a wonderful father, who never objected to minding Niamh if Lizzie was busy, even if he’d just come in from work. Flo was shocked one day, seeing him do this while Lizzie was sorting the hot water for his wash, but Steve paid her no heed. ‘I see little enough of her, Ma,’ he said, cradling her in his arms. ‘This is no hardship to me.’

      Nothing he did for his daughter seemed a hardship to him, and every fine Sunday afternoon Steve would forego the lunchtime binge with his mates and walk out with his wife and baby, pushing Niamh proudly in the pram he’d bought from Lewis’s when she was just a few days old.

      ‘When she’s older, we’ll take her to the Lickey Hills,’ Steve would promise as they wheeled the child through Calthorpe or Cannon Hill Park.’ My old man never did much with me or our Neil, and I intend to be a better dad than that to mine.’

      How could Lizzie resent the few occasions when she’d known he’d sought satisfaction elsewhere, when under doctor’s orders she’d been unable to have sex before she’d had the child? There had been times she had burned with frustration herself and she’d missed the cuddles they used to have in bed, but Steve said you never knew where that might lead. He was right, but it had been hard, and if she’d found it difficult how much worse must it have been for him? Men couldn’t really do without sex like women could, it was a well-known fact, except for priests of course. She resolved to put those past incidents out of her head and let them both take joy in their child.

      Niamh was over three months by mid-September, old enough to make the trip to Ireland, and so, desperate to show her daughter off, Lizzie went to see her mother. Steve didn’t go with them, so he was able to indulge himself with all the street women he wanted as soon as Lizzie’s back was turned.