‘To my granddaughter or grandson. Boy or girl, may the bairn be strong ’n healthy.’
Agnes raised her teacup.
‘To the baby,’ Polly said.
Mother and daughter chinked their china cups and took a sip of their tea.
‘I’d feel a lot happier if you packed yer job in, though.’ Agnes eyed her daughter. This was their main bone of contention. She didn’t want to push the issue too much and make Polly even more resolute than she already was. But at the same time, she didn’t want her to think it was fine to carry on doing what amounted to a man’s job when she was expecting.
‘You know, Ma, you worry too much. I promise you, if I start finding it hard or I’m feeling unwell, I’ll stop. You’ve got to trust that I’ll be sensible and do the right thing.’
She picked up her cuppa.
‘I know this baby’s going to be fine.’ Polly threw a look at her mother and smiled mischievously. ‘After all, yer not the only one who has the gift o’ foresight,’ she said, taking off her mother’s subtle Irish brogue down to a T.
‘Mmm,’ Agnes said, pouring her tea into her saucer to cool it down and then taking a sup. ‘At least the bab should be nicely settled now. God willing.’ She took another sup. ‘Not that anything’s ever certain, but it’s as certain as yer can get, I suppose.’
‘I wish you’d told me you were so worked up about me catching the measles,’ Polly said, stroking Tramp, who was curled up at her feet. ‘Thank goodness for Beryl having a memory like an elephant.’
Agnes laughed. ‘It’s a bit worrying when yer neighbour can remember more about yer own bairns than yer can yerself.’
Polly looked at her ma, her face becoming serious. ‘I know, but it was understandable. Beryl said it was just after Dad had been declared missing, presumed dead.’
‘It’s true,’ Agnes said, ‘shock can play games on the mind – and the memory.’
She pushed herself out of the chair.
‘Anyway, no more morbid talk.’ She went into the scullery and brought out a plate of custard tarts. ‘It’s not exactly the Grand, but it’s a little something to mark the occasion. My daughter having her first bab, eh?’
‘Thanks, Ma. My favourites.’ Polly took one and put it on a side plate. ‘I seem to have developed a real sweet tooth.’ She took a bite. ‘Gloria was the same when she was carrying Hope.’
‘I remember being the same with you,’ Agnes said. ‘But not the twins. With them, I’d eat anything and everything. I was starving all the time.’ She smiled, thinking of her own pregnancies, before her face became sombre.
‘We might be allowing ourselves to have a little tea party of sorts, but yer must remember – there’s to be no buying of any baby clothes. Not until the bab’s born.’
‘Honestly, Ma, you’re so superstitious.’ Polly laughed, but seeing the look of earnestness on her mother’s face, she added, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
‘And just so you know, this is not a celebration. There’s to be no celebrating until the bab’s arrived safe and sound. This is simply the marking of the bab’s presence in our lives.’
They were quiet for a moment, both enjoying the rarity of a calm, quiet house. Everyone was out – Joe was with the Major, Pearl was at the Tatham and Bel had taken Lucille to the cinema. She had apologised no end, saying she had totally forgotten they were having a little tea party, but there would be another war on if she told Lucille their trip to see Jungle Book was cancelled.
‘It’s nice, just being us two,’ Polly said. She had felt a little relieved when Bel had said she was taking Lucille to the flicks. She knew her pregnancy was difficult for Bel, even though she was doing a good job of not showing it.
‘It is,’ Agnes said. ‘It’s good that Bel’s busy with LuLu. It’s not easy – not with her so desperate for another little ’un.’
Polly looked at her mother. She had an uncanny knack of reading her mind sometimes.
‘It’s good yer being so thoughtful,’ Agnes added, ‘but yer must still enjoy this time. It’s special, you know. Yer making a life … And it’s even more special with all this warmongering and death going on.’
Polly nodded. ‘Tommy said something similar in his last letter. “A bit of love to combat all the hatred” was how he put it.’
Agnes smiled. Polly had found a good man. He had a sensitive soul. This baby would be special in many ways.
‘He’ll make a good father,’ Agnes mused.
‘If he makes it back,’ Polly said.
Agnes looked at her daughter. She had thought the same but would never have said it. It was important for Polly to be hopeful.
‘We talked about it,’ Polly said. ‘If he doesn’t make it back.’
Agnes sat back. ‘And what did yer both say?’
‘Tommy made me promise that I wouldn’t give up on life if he lost his out there.’ Polly topped up their cups.
‘And did yer? Promise?’
Polly nodded solemnly. ‘I did.’
Agnes felt a sense of relief.
‘But knowing that I’ve got a part of Tommy growing inside of me now,’ Polly added. ‘That I’m going to have his child – well, that makes me feel like I could really keep on going if anything happened to him.’
As they continued to chat and enjoy their custard tarts, Agnes said a silent prayer that nothing – absolutely nothing – would threaten the life of this baby now growing in her daughter’s belly.