Caroline Kay
Theresa
Kay
‘Happy Birthday to you!’ The song reached its crescendo and Theresa blew out all the candles in one long blow.
Kay smiled and called the cluster of children to go into the lounge for pass the parcel. The party had taken days to organise and meanwhile Dominic’s croup had kept her up in the night just as the twins had started sleeping through. Four babies in five years. People in the parish thought it was a fairy story. If they hadn’t all been adopted there might have been less interest, though families did seem to be getting smaller these days.
She watched Theresa pass the parcel round and got ready to lift the arm off the record player. Theresa was a lovely looking child, thick shiny dark-brown hair, creamy skin that turned caramel in the summer sun and brown eyes like dark chocolate. Kay wondered sometimes whether there was any Spanish or Italian ancestry. She looked darker than her brothers, who all had blue eyes, but of them all it was only the twins who had a clear likeness to each other. They weren’t identical but very similar.
But people saw what they wanted to see. Strangers often remarked on the resemblance between Kay and Theresa – ‘She’s just like you isn’t she?’ Kay found it bizarre – they both had shoulder-length brown hair, cut with a fringe, but that was it really. There was little alike in their faces – Kay had chubby cheeks and a generous mouth, grey eyes, a motherly look to her, while Theresa was more delicate, like a little fawn with those big, brown eyes and long eyelashes and a small nose. Even more amusing were the comments the whole family would get on holiday, which veered from ‘like peas in a pod’ to ‘they’re all quite different, aren’t they?’ The Farrells’ standard response was to smile and agree with either observation.
Kay stopped the music and waited while Jimmy’s mother helped him take away a wrapper. She lowered the needle and ‘Nellie The Elephant’ rang out again. Four children meant a busy life but she had a cleaner every day now. She couldn’t have managed otherwise. Adam’s estate agency business had expanded and he’d opened a second shop in Chorlton-cum-Hardy. More people than ever were wanting to buy their own home and new Barratt’s and Wimpy estates were being built everywhere. Modern homes with all the mod-cons and easy to look after. Adam would enthuse about the more stylish developments but Kay loved the character of their old Edwardian semi in Sale even though it was a magnet for dust and hard to keep warm. But he was talking about central heating before next winter. That would make so much difference.
She stopped the music and Andrew undid the parcel. Theresa looked across at Kay, eyes shining, a jelly stain on the neck of her party dress and crumbs round her mouth. She raised her shoulders and grinned, a little gesture of happiness that made Kay wink back. Nearly done, she was dying for a cup of tea and to sit down for a few minutes. Before then there was cake to parcel up and balloons to give out. Some of the other mothers would help. Not a man in sight though. Funny they never came to the parties, it just wasn’t done. Never did much of anything in the house either. She wasn’t complaining but just now or then it would be lovely to have a meal cooked for her or find a room tidied or the ironing done. The image of Adam hunched over an ironing board made her giggle.
She was happy. Of course, there were days when she snapped at the children or the hours before bedtime seemed to yawn ahead with nothing but demands on her. On the rare occasion that she left the house without a pram, a toddler on reins or a small hand in hers, she felt anxious, as though she had lost something precious and would get into trouble. The unease persisted, albeit at a low level, until she was back home, so she never really enjoyed the rare trips to the sales or a get-together with an old friend. Her social life revolved around the children and the network of women nearby who were at home with theirs. She was closest to Joanna. She didn’t agree with everything Joanna said but she was honest and she was funny and you knew she wouldn’t sit in judgment on you like some of the others.
Damien, Joanna’s five-year-old, opened the next layer and grabbed the twist of floral gums that fell out. Two more layers, if she remembered correctly. She’d try and get Karen next, a whining child that she found hard to like, who looked close to tears at not having had a go. How different would life have been if she and Adam had been able to have their own family. She might have ended up with one like Karen. She’d no regrets. Not now. Though she did wonder what pregnancy would have been like, all that side of things. And breast feeding. Not many people did it, with bottles being so convenient, but she thought that would have been something special. She’d talked to Joanna about it once.
‘Ghastly business. Tried it for a week. I’d bosoms like a cow, it hurt like crazy and the poor mite nearly starved to death. Ken hated it too.’
The odd thing about their birthdays was that she’d not been there when they were born. There were no anecdotes about the day like other people had. They didn’t even know what time Theresa had been born or how the labour had gone. That was another woman’s story. She always thought of her and said a prayer for her, hoping that everything had turned out all right, as well as a prayer of thanks for what they had been given.
Karen got her turn and then the final parcel made the rounds. The bat and ball in the middle went to Janey from nextdoor.
‘Home time!’ Kay called out. ‘Get your coats.’ She handed each child or their mother a balloon and a piece of birthday cake. She saw people out and when they were all gone except for Faith she heard the woman’s voice, etched with tension, ‘For Christ’s sake just put the bloody car down. Now!’
A caterwaul rose and Kay hurried in. Faith was gripping Andrew’s arm and the child was obviously in pain. Theresa watched, her lower lip trembling. Faith’s older son Oliver stood unblinking to one side.
‘Faith?’
Her friend wasn’t usually harsh. But with two youngsters and another on the way there were bound to be difficult days.
Faith let go immediately. ‘I’m sorry.’ She bent to put an arm round her son. ‘I’m sorry, Andy. Mummy’s very tired.’ She rubbed his hair and straightened up, turning so Kay caught sight of her face crumpling. ‘It’s just…’
‘Come in the kitchen,’ Kay said. ‘Theresa, you take Andrew and Oliver and Dominic out to the sandpit. Go on and I’ll bring you all an ice-lolly in a minute.’
Kay sat Faith down, put the kettle on and offered her a cigarette. Faith took it, mouth working, wiping at her tears with the heel of her hand. ‘It’s Mick,’ she said. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘Left us. Walked out.’
‘Oh, Faith. Why… what?’
‘We’ve been rowing -’ she gave a short laugh – ‘endlessly. He didn’t want another baby. He says I can’t control the children. He expects them to be little angels, all the time.’ She picked up Kay’s lighter and lit her cigarette, her hand shaking. ‘He was coming home later and later.’
‘Do you think he was… involved with someone?’
‘No. I just think he was avoiding the children. It can be frantic at tea time, you know what it’s like. Oliver is always teasing Andrew. Anyway, Mick’s been drinking, more than he should…’ She frowned deeply, pressed the back of her hand to her nose.