A Mother Forever Elaine Everest (best beach reads of all time .txt) 📖

of hours chatting of nothing special while enjoying watching young Pat play with her toys. Ruby had confided in them about her son’s impending marriage and her sisters had been sympathetic in the situation, insisting it was the war that was to blame for the loose morals of the young people of today. Ruby bit her tongue and promised they would receive an invitation to the wedding, begging them to keep the secret of the baby to themselves. She wasn’t sure how Irene or her parents would react if they knew Ruby had been talking to others about it. But somehow it seemed the news of the baby had united the three women, with Fanny and Janie teasing their younger sister about being a grandmother and insisting they would help with knitting the layette after inspecting Ruby’s handiwork with her knitting needles.

After clearing away the tea things when her sisters had left, Ruby helped her tired daughter to bed and tucked her in alongside her dolly. By the time George arrived home, he found his mother pleasantly tired, sitting by the hearth in darkness apart from the glow of the fire.

‘I thought you’d have gone up ages ago,’ he said as he knelt by her chair.

Ruby stroked his hair. ‘Where have the years gone?’ she asked him. ‘It doesn’t seem five minutes since you helped me move into this house as a little boy of five.’

George laid his head against her shoulder.

‘It doesn’t to me either. I remember everything about that day: being so frightened when you collapsed in the street, and then being taken into the house by Nanny and not knowing what had happened to you. Nobody would explain to me, and it was days later that I was allowed to see you, and you looked so ill. I remember asking about the baby because you’d told me about how I was going to have a baby brother or sister – and there was nothing. When I asked, people cried. Nan even slapped me for asking. She told me that little boys should be seen and not heard. All I wanted to do was see the baby. This is what I fear most about Irene expecting our child. She is so young. What if our baby dies?’

In the light from the flickering fire, Ruby could see the fear on his face. ‘You can’t think like that, George. You’ve got to be the strong one for Irene. She is a healthy young woman and she will be the perfect mother; you have nothing to fear, believe me.’

‘But what if I’m away when the baby comes? I doubt her mother will be of much use. Will you promise me you’ll be there with her, please?’

‘I promise. Don’t you fret, I’ll be by her side and I’ll remember it all. I will write to you and tell you about your beautiful baby when it’s born. I suppose you’re hoping for a strapping young boy?’ she said, trying to lighten the air of gloom.

‘Not necessarily. Mum, I’ve discussed what happened when you lost Sarah, and Irene agrees with me that if we are to have a little girl we will call her Sarah, just as I promised you when we went to visit her grave on the day we met Mrs Grant.’

Ruby couldn’t find the words to thank him. To think he’d remembered that day from when he was a little boy. Deep, shuddering sobs came from within her and she found herself crying, not only for her lost daughter but for Derek, for all that had happened with her and Eddie, for Frank and Stephen and their dangerous future together, and also for her dear son, who might perish on the battlefields of France. When her tears subsided and she wiped her eyes, she said, ‘Now you are a man, George, there are things I need to tell you about your father – why he left us, and why I still love him to this day.’

George listened carefully as the words poured from Ruby’s lips. ‘To think I never told a living soul apart from Frank, even down to the one night that Eddie came back and then disappeared again. So, you see, whatever anyone says, Pat is your sister.’

George took his mother in his arms and held her tight until he could feel that she’d settled and was calm within herself. ‘Mum, I’ve always trusted you. I’ve looked up to you: the way you’ve coped, the way you’ve made a home for me and Pat – and I’ve seen that others respect you. When Dad returns from the war I shall welcome him with open arms, if that’s what you want. Let’s put all of this behind us and start again. 1918 is going to be a good year for our family, I can feel it in my bones. Besides, you’re going to be a grandmother,’ he chuckled.

‘Don’t you start,’ Ruby smiled as she wiped her face with her handkerchief. ‘I had your two aunts pulling my leg about that this afternoon. I’ve got my own back, though: I reminded them that they’ll be great-aunties. I also showed them my terrible knitting skills, so they are already planning to kit your baby out in the finest garments. She’ll be a lucky young lady.’

‘Or young man,’ George smiled.

‘Oh no, I really think we’re about to meet our Sarah,’ Ruby said contentedly.

14

January 1918

Ruby would have liked to be able to say she’d enjoyed her son’s wedding, but it would have been a lie. Irene’s father was delightful; however, her mother was a different matter. Mrs Desmond was a snob, there was no other word for it. She did her best to outshine Ruby, and without really saying a word she made it clear that she was from a different class to Ruby and her son.

Ruby was happy to see that Mr Desmond welcomed George with open arms. He was a jovial chap, and the few words he had