‘Have you been to the doctor’s yet?’
‘No, there’s no need. I’m fit and healthy.’ Mary was making a pastry crust for the meat and potato pie that was cooling on the table. ‘A bit like you these days. It’s good to see you getting more like your old self.’ She studied Ellen. ‘You’re feeling better?’
‘I’m sleeping better, not having as many nightmares,’ Ellen said, ‘and I don’t get as tired so quickly.’
‘Good, I’m glad.’ Mary smiled. She shook the last of the flour through the sieve and banged it on the side of the mixing bowl. ‘Look, there’s something I need to say, well, ask really.’ She rested her hands flat on the table. She hadn’t slept well herself over the last week. However she lay, she couldn’t get comfortable and she couldn’t stop the fears for the future. Now, knowing what depended on Ellen’s answer, she felt sick. ‘And be honest, love. Do you think you could manage on your own now? Without me being here?’
‘No! Why are you asking that?’ Her voice rose immediately. ‘I don’t. I can’t.’
‘You don’t mind my staying on here, at least for the time being?’
‘This is as much your house as mine, Mary. Mam left it to us all.’ Ellen sat forward on the edge of her chair and rested her arms on the table.
‘But it’s your home,’ Mary insisted. ‘I know at Christmas Ted said I could stay, but I have been here quite a while now and I’m not helping moneywise at all.’
‘You brought your ration books.’ Ellen put her hand over Mary’s. ‘Don’t go.’
‘It’s just that Ted’s been so quiet lately. I wondered if he thought I was in the way?’
‘Don’t be daft. No, he says he feels guilty he doesn’t miss his mother.’
‘Is that what it is?’ Relieved Mary slid her fingers from under Ellen’s and straightened up to rub at the ache in the small of her back. ‘His mother? I’d be surprised if either of you thought twice about his mother, knowing how vile she was to you.’
‘She was a nasty cow.’ Ellen’s gaze slid towards the bottom of the stairs. ‘She did her best to split us up. And I think Ted’s glad she’s gone. But he feels guilty…’ Mary waited. ‘That and the shop. He worries when he can’t get stuff for the shop. He’s struggled to get decent flour this last month.’ Ellen wafted that worry away. ‘We have talked about it … you and the baby.’
‘What’s he said?’
‘Nothing. Except to suggest I do a bit more round the house.’ Despite the ache spreading further up her back Mary smiled. Her sister couldn’t have sounded more disgruntled if she’d tried. ‘We want you to stay. And the children love having you here, especially Linda. She worships the ground you walk on, you know that.’
‘And I love her … and William.’
‘So that’s settled? You’ll stay?’ Ellen unwrapped the greaseproof paper off the square of lard next to the mixing bowl. ‘Here you are.’
‘Thanks. I just wanted to make sure, you know. With the baby and everything.’ The relief made Mary’s fingers shake. She cut the fat into small pieces, narrowly missing the top of her thumb.
‘We’ll manage,’ Ellen said. ‘Do you know how far on you are?’
‘About six months, I think.’ It was that long since Ted’s telephone call; the night her whole world came crashing down around her head.
‘Have you told Peter?’
‘No, and you won’t either.’ In her weekly telephone calls Gwyneth insisted on telling her what Peter was doing, how unhappy he seemed. Her voice was becoming more and more anxious, her questions more probing. To hide the shaking, Mary dipped her hands into the flour, feeling the fat slide through her fingertips, separating and combining to turn it all into bread-like crumbs.
‘Will you ever forgive him?’
‘No, he lied to me.’ Mary slapped her palms together, shaking off the last of the mixture. ‘And I don’t want to talk about it.’ She could feel panic rising.
‘But…’
‘But nothing.’
‘Okay.’ Ellen watched Mary drip cold water from a jug into the bowl and work the mixture with her hands until it formed into a pale smooth lump. ‘I was just thinking, with you talking to Gwyneth, won’t he find out anyway? And then what will you do?’
A trickle of trepidation ran down Mary’s arms to her fingers at the same time as a stab of pain in her groin caused her to gasp.
‘Mary?’ Ellen jumped up and, putting her arms around her, lowered Mary onto a chair.
‘I’m fine.’ Mary held her breath until the pain receded. She swallowed. ‘I’m fine, it’s gone.’
‘You’ve gone deathly white.’ Ellen stood back, frowning. ‘I think a day in bed wouldn’t do any harm.’ She paused. ‘And, as our Mam would say, it’s time I picked up the reins again and stopped leaving everything to you.’