Trio - [18]

‘I’d be misleading you to say the Church would approve of such behavior. I’m afraid it would be up to your own conscience. God has sent you a challenge, Mrs Gough. It may be that through meeting it you can enter a state of true grace.’

She clenched her teeth at the platitudes. She was flesh and blood. She wanted her marriage back and she wanted a family. How could that be so wrong?

One night when Peter had been out to the pub with his friends she ambushed him. Her period had just finished and she hoped it would be safe. She waited in bed and when he climbed in she reached for him. She kissed him. ‘Love me Peter, please, love me.’

‘But what about…’

‘Pull it out, before, you know…’

She was relying on the hope that the drinks he’d had would weaken his resistance. And they had.

It was wonderful.

Afterwards, while he slept, she thought of a solution. If she had her womb removed, then there would be no risk of pregnancy. Peter might still have to face the problem of wasting his seed but she was no longer prepared to feel guilty. She couldn’t have his children but she would damn well have his love. If that made her a bad Catholic, so be it.

She went back to Mr Russell, who hemmed and hawed but eventually accepted that a hysterectomy would remove the risk of further complicated pregnancies.

And once she was over that her new campaign began in earnest. The plan to adopt.

Lilian had been physically sick the morning that the social worker called. A mouthful of cornflakes and her stomach, which had broiled in acid anxiety all night rebelled. Peter had managed to get the morning off work but his presence made her even more wound up. She rinsed her mouth with water and toured the rooms for the umpteenth time. All tidy. Could it be too tidy? The social worker might think they’d be too fussy to have a child messing up the house. Oh, God.

‘She’s here,’ Peter called.

Lilian practically fell downstairs, pulled the door open hard and greeted Mrs Jenkins with a fixed smile. Her eye was twitching and she felt like something out of a Jerry Lewis slapstick film.

‘Come in, please.’ She couldn’t work out how to wipe the stupid grin from her face without it looking peculiar, so she covered her mouth with her hand and tried to relax her lips.

They sat in the dining room, at the mahogany table that had been her mother’s. Mrs Jenkins had two sets of forms to fill in and one to leave with them. Questions she asked related to all the facts and figures of their situation. Age, health, occupation, income, family in the area.

‘Any existing children?’

‘No.’

‘Reasons for adopting.’

They explained.

‘You’d want a baby, then?’

‘Oh, yes. As young as possible.’

They had to supply references.

Then Mrs Jenkins wanted to see round the house.

‘This would be the nursery,’ Lilian heard herself saying, ‘right next to our room. We haven’t decorated yet, but we will do, of course.’

Before she left, Mrs Jenkins gave a speech. Adopting a child was a legal act, governed by the law. They should be fully committed before going any further. In rare cases if there was a problem with a placement then the social work department would try to assist, but that was exceptional and once they were approved and a child was placed with them they would have all the duties and responsibilities for the care of that child. Exactly as with natural parents. There would be no allowance or payment of any sort. Her report would be put forward and they were to fill in and return the form she had left them. The panel would meet to decide whether to approve their application.

Lilian kept nodding throughout it, hoping that wearing her glasses and the way she’d put her hair up would make her seem serious but not too frumpish.

If they were approved, the social worker concluded, their names would go forward to the Catholic Children’s Rescue Society. Did they understand? Had they any questions?

When she had gone, Lilian sat heavily on the couch. ‘She hated us.’

‘She didn’t, they have to be formal about it.’ Peter stood by the door.

‘I could tell, Peter. She thought I was too nervy, all that stuff about my health and my operation. And she turned up her nose when you said you were an engineer. They’ll pick the richest people, the professionals, first.’ She bit her knuckles, trying to bite back the tears that threatened.

‘Lilian.’ He moved to sit next to her. ‘There are hundreds and hundreds of babies waiting for a home. You heard Father Flanagan last month, imploring people to come forward. We’ve a decent house, I’ve a steady job, you don’t have to go out to work – that’s all that matters. It’ll be all right.’ He put his hand round her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

Lilian nodded, craving reassurance but terrified that this final chance to have a child might be snatched from her. And she didn’t think she could bear that. She didn’t know how she would go on living if she couldn’t have a baby.

Lilian couldn’t ring Peter at work with the news. Only something urgent, like a death in the close family, was permitted to interrupt him on the works floor. Instead she paced the house, smoked too many cigarettes and sorted all the junk from the spare room ready to shift into the attic.