Shirley had been pregnant during the time that Mimi went missing. She was puzzled about it and wondered whether to have an abortion. She had two boys already, and neither of them had a responsible father, but it would be nice to have a girl. She was warming to the prospect while already struggling with the thought that a third child would be too much.
She confided in her friend Angela. ‘I think I am pregnant. I don’t know whether to keep it or not.’
‘Really? Who is responsible?’ Angela asked curiously
‘It’s a neighbour I had a fling with,’ she replied, ‘but he is married, and it will be embarrassing to inform him.’
‘Then get rid of it,’ Angela advised.
‘Well, that would be a good idea, but deep down, I don’t want to.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I love him and would like to keep his baby.’
‘That’s silly of you. You have the boys to look after; you must consider that. You must let the man know even if you don’t want him involved,’ Angela said.
‘It will be difficult. I can’t face him or his wife.’
‘What has his wife got to do with this?’ Angela asked.
‘It’s a long story, and besides that, the two are solid. There is no way I can talk to him without the wife’s presence,’ Shirley said.
‘I am sorry, but you must let him know if you don’t want an abortion. How long have you gone?’
‘Five months,’ Shirley replied.
‘It’s far too gone for an abortion; it’s against the law. So you must inform him. Shirley, you are the only nurse I know who seems to fail contraception tests. Why didn’t you prevent this pregnancy?’ Angela scolded.
‘I got carried away, and I was taking the pills, so I didn’t think I would bloody get pregnant!’ Shirley said.
‘Well, you must let him know,’ Angela pressed her.
Shirley thought it over seriously and decided to inform both Maria and Ron. It was devastating news for them, as things had gone back to normal. This was another feud starting, Ron had said to his wife. Maria said it was Ron’s decision to make, and Ron said he wanted his wife to be part of the decision.
‘Have you been getting on with her after all we went through with her?’ Maria asked, angry and freshly suspicious.
‘No, I have not. You are the only person I care for. We will grow old together. Please do not let anyone distract us,’ Ron pleaded.
‘It always comes from you, not me.’ She rolled her eyes and looked away.
‘All right, let’s not start,’ said Ron
‘But things are coming up every day. You should understand how I feel.’
‘Believe me, Shirley is making it up. She wants attention, and we should not give her any,’ said Ron.
‘Ron, she is pregnant. Don’t you realize the implications? It’s life changing.’
‘I don’t believe I am responsible for Shirley’s pregnancy, but I cannot deny it because it falls within the last time I was intimate with her,’ he said.
‘Did you have sex with her?’ she asked.
‘That was a mistake,’ he replied.
‘Well then, Mr Mackintosh, you cannot deny responsibility. What are you going to do about it?’ Maria asked, her voice shaking and tears pooling in her eyes.
‘I would like a DNA test after the birth. If the baby is mine, I would like to get involved,’ he said.
‘Look at what your stupidity has cost us. This nightmare is never-ending. I don’t even know why you are still here,’ Maria said, frustrated and upset. ‘Well then, let’s wait and see.’
‘I am very sorry, Maria. You have done nothing to deserve this. I have dragged you into this mess and all I can say is sorry.’ He left the room and headed into the restored garden.
Months went by, and finally Shirley delivered a baby girl. The DNA was done at once. Ron fell in love with the baby instantly, but it would be better if she wasn’t his.
The test result was shocking to Shirley: the baby was not Ron’s! She could not believe and questioned the results aggressively. It can’t be right, she thought and demanded another test. The hospital turned down her request.
Ron was relieved, so he said to Maria, ‘We must drink for that.’ They went to the Harvester, got a table in the corner of the dining area, and had a nice meal, washing it down with drinks. It was another victory celebrated.
Shirley was heartbroken; it was bad news. She’d been certain that Ron was Rihanna’s father. He was a good father to his children and she admired him very much. Having Ron as father to Rihanna would guarantee some form of contacts and shared responsibility between the two. She had thought she would be content with that.
At the moment, she could not name the father of her beautiful daughter. Her friends saw her as a disgrace to her profession for not protecting herself from unplanned pregnancy. She now regretted not terminating the pregnancy. She was very sure that it would be Ron’s, but it wasn’t. Not only was she sad; she had become a laughing stock to the Mackintosh family.
She had to find out who the father of her baby was. It would be a difficult task, as she’d had unprotected sex with several men. She was in her lowest moments behaving the way she did. The innocent child did not ask to be born. She had taken the pill, but it did not work. This happened to many women—some do not know the fathers of their babies, some are inexperienced in life and take things for granted, and others just don’t care. Shirley did not fall into any of these categories; she was just an opportunist who wanted to snatch someone’s husband from her.
Shirley embarked on a journey to find the father of her daughter. She summoned Ron to The Jeremy Kyle Show, saying that the first DNA test was contaminated so the results were not valid. She also mentioned two potential fathers. The test on Ron still came back negative; then one of the other blokes tested positive. He was the guy she fell in bed with the day Ron had the terrible accident.
Baby Rihanna had finally found her dad. The finding led to good things. Shirley and Michael, Rihanna’s dad, started a serious relationship and later got married. Shirley and her children moved to the next village with her husband. That ended the long friction between Shirley and the Mackintosh family.
Brenda, now eighty, was getting frail. She had been strong and independent until lately, when she had a terrible fall and was admitted into hospital. Ron had suggested that they bring Brenda to come and live with them. It was a good idea because Brenda was lonely at home, even though Maria visited regularly and her grandchildren also made frequent visits.
They all embraced Ron’s suggestion to bring her to stay with them. ‘We can then keep an eye on her and keep her company,’ he had pointed out.
Brenda’s only son, Jonathan, had gone backpacking some forty years earlier and decided to remain in Australia. He had not visited since then, but she received letters and birthday cards every year. That had stopped abruptly a few years back. She had planned to visit her son, but before she could carry out the plan, she had this life-changing fall. She had sent several letters to her son telling him how she missed him. Maria had also on several occasions tried to contact her brother, but to no avail.
Brenda had got her daughter and grandchildren to her credit and had been told that Emma was pregnant, which meant she was expecting a great-grandchild. She would like to live to see whoever that child was. She was very comfortable with Ron and Maria but sometimes thought they were overprotective and patronizing. They would pamper her to eat more and even pestered her with more food. She thought it was a kind gesture, but she would actually like to be left alone if she doesn’t want to eat.
They watched television together and had banter with her daughter. When she lived alone, she felt weak and unmotivated. She rarely bothered to eat and would sit in the chair all day waiting for the carer to arrive. The carer’s arrival was what she looked forward to. It was the only time that she had human contact. She never wanted them to leave and would engage them to do things to keep them around longer. Some carers were kind and would stay with her a little longer when they still had time.
Coming to live with her daughter and her husband had renewed her strength, and she was able to go into the garden with her Zimmer frame for fresh air. She wished she could cook for her daughter as she used to, but her balance was so poor that she would fall if care was not taken.
Brenda lived with her daughter for three years before one day she fell ill. She had finished with her tea and was watching a soap on television when Maria observed that she was very quiet and was breathing heavily. She called her several times before she responded.
‘Are you all right, Mum?’ Maria asked, growing worried.
‘No, I can’t breathe,’ Brenda replied weakly.
Maria went into Brenda’s room and got her inhaler for her. ‘Is it better now, Mum?’ she asked.
She saw that her mother’s colour was changing to blue. She became alarmed and called the ambulance. It arrived in fifteen minutes. At the hospital, Brenda was diagnosed with pneumonia. She recovered quickly and was discharged to go home.
It was a wake-up call for Maria and Ron; they began keeping a closer eye on Brenda. The doctor has advised that her condition was very serious, but she might live some years if they watched her diet and made sure she took her medicines. That was easy to do because they all lived in the same house.
Maria was saddened, however, that her mother, who used to be full of life, could no longer even take three mouthfuls of food. ‘Mother, you must take more; what you have taken is not enough,’ she pleaded at dinner time. Brenda just looked away and said she’d had enough.
Maria and Ron did their best for her, seeking medical advice all the time. One morning before the family was up, Brenda went into the kitchen and washed all the dirty dishes from the day before and tidied up the kitchen. Maria heard noises in the kitchen and went out to see, thinking some intruders had sneaked in. She tiptoed into the kitchen to see Brenda tidying up.
‘Mother, what are you doing?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Just tidying up,’ Brenda replied calmly.
‘Please go back to bed; it’s very early,’ she said.
‘I think I should help you. You do everything, and I want to help,’ her mother reasoned.
‘Go and sit down, and I will make us a cup of tea if you don’t want to go back to bed,’ Maria suggested.
While they sat taking their tea, Brenda said, ‘I had a dream today, and I saw your father. I have never seen him in a dream since he died, never, but I saw him last night.’
‘Is that why you are up so early?’ Maria asked curiously.
‘Probably. He was the handsome young man I first knew. He sat on the sofa and was chatting with me. He asked how I have been, and I told him it’s been difficult, but it is getting better. He said he was all right and happy to see me again. He went through the door and was gone, so I followed to find where he had gone, but he was not there. I went into the kitchen to tidy up.’ Brenda narrated all this with no emotion on her face.
Maria tried to interpret the dream: ‘My father is in heaven, and he is watching over us. In your dream, he came to assure you that you will be all right.’
‘Do you think so?’ Brenda asked with a smile.
‘I am positive about that,’ Maria replied with a smile. ‘The doctor said you must rest, so I don’t need you to stress yourself, Mother. I will be fine with the house chores. Thank you, but please rest for us.’
She led her mother to her bedroom and left to her own room. It was a Saturday morning and she intended to have a lay in. Later that evening, Brenda started vomiting again, and they called the doctor in. He simply advised that she be left to rest. He gave her an injection, and she went to sleep. Brenda was in that condition for three days. Ron and Maria became alarmed and call the girls in. Brenda died peacefully a week later, with her daughter and her grandchildren around her, though the great-grandchild she was expecting was not yet born. She was buried at the local cemetery. The funeral was simple, with family and friends in attendance.
Maria grieved her mother for a long time. Brenda had supported her to achieve so much. Being the only female to be accepted in the judicial service at her time was a great achievement that she was proud of and would always cherish. Her mother had helped her with the children, babysitting for her while she had quality time with her husband. She could never replace her loss.
Ron and Maria were contemplating how to contact her brother Jonathan in Australia. She doubted that he was still living there because for about two years, there had been no reply to the letters sent to him.
‘Let’s send a recorded delivery letter and see if it will be returned,’ Ron suggested.
‘That is a good idea, I suppose. How can he keep silent and not respond to his family? His girlfriend hasn’t been heard from either. It is worrying.’
Then the phone rang. Ron picked it up; it was Luke, Emma’s husband. His good news was that they had a little grandson. It was the best news they’d had for a very long time.
He announced that Emma had gone into labour in the afternoon and five hours later delivered a baby boy they had named Darren. Both mother and baby Darren were fine.
‘Fantastic, I will make my way in the morning,’ Maria said excitedly.
It was long drive, about three hundred miles from Bexley in Kent to Derbyshire where Emma lived with her husband. Baby Darren and his mother were at home, him in his decorated cot. Maria bent over the cot and picked up her grandson. What a feeling, a feeling she had never felt before, a different kind of love, innocent and perfect.