A Daughter’s Courage: A powerful, gritty new saga from the Sunday Times bestseller. Kitty Neale
Mr Epstein could answer there was a loud shriek. Nelly spun round just as Dorothy screamed louder and was horrified to see that blood was trickling down her friend’s legs and beginning to pool on the floor. Without hesitation, Nelly ran to her, her big chest heaving up and down.
‘Shush, it’s all right,’ she said soothingly, putting her arm round Dorothy’s shoulders.
‘I’m bleeding! What’s happening? Please, Nelly, help me. It’s so painful,’ Dorothy cried.
‘Just come to the locker room with me and try to stay calm,’ Nelly urged, hoping that none of their co-workers would work out what was going on.
Her fears were realised when Mr Epstein called, ‘What is wrong with that girl? Is she miscarrying?’
Dorothy looked at Nelly, saying fearfully, ‘Oh, my God, I’m not, am I?’
‘I’m sorry, but yes, you might be, though nobody else needs to know. Come on, lean on me, and let’s get you out the back.’
Mr Epstein was shouting again, ‘It’s a disgrace! How dare she come here in that condition! Get that whore out of my sight!’
Nelly felt Dorothy’s body flinch and wasn’t sure if she was having more pain or if Mr Epstein’s words had hurt.
‘I’m not having that,’ she screeched at Epstein. ‘Dorothy ain’t a whore, she’s just having a bad monthly. You should watch your mouth saying things like that ’cos she could have you up in court for slander.’
Nelly had no idea if that was true, but at least it shut Epstein up as he blustered, ‘Yes, well, I can see she’s ill so take her home.’
She managed to get her friend through to the locker room and seated on the wooden bench. Dorothy bent over double. ‘Oh, God, it hurts. What’s happening? Am I going to die?’
‘Don’t be silly, of course you aren’t, but I think you’re losing the baby. We must get you to Dr Stubbs.’
‘No,’ Dorothy shrieked, ‘if anyone’s in the waiting room they’ll see me and guess what’s happening.’
Nelly sat down next to her friend. She had seen her sister go through this between her first and second child. ‘OK, then, we need to get you cleaned up and home to bed.’
‘The pain is getting worse and I don’t think I can make it home.’ Dorothy was crying as she clutched her tummy.
‘Do you want me to call an ambulance?’ Nelly asked worriedly.
‘No … no!’ Dorothy gasped, and, drawing in juddering breaths, she straightened up. ‘It’s eased off now so I’ll try to make it home.’
‘All right. I’ll help you,’ Nelly said, before hurrying into the toilet to get some tissue to wipe her friend’s legs. She then took Dorothy’s coat from her locker and draped it across the girl’s shoulders before putting on her own coat. ‘Right, come on, hold on to my arm and we’ll take it nice and slow.’
They left the bakery by the side door with Dorothy leaning heavily on Nelly as they made their way to her house. The going was slow as they had to stop every now and then when the pain became too much for Dorothy to walk.
‘That’s it, girl,’ Nelly urged. ‘Not far now, we’re nearly there.’
Dorothy was becoming weaker so Nelly was relieved when the Butlers’ house came into sight. She had the greatest sympathy for her friend’s pain, and couldn’t imagine what the girl was going through, yet it crossed her mind that maybe, in some ways, this was for the best. She doubted Dorothy would feel the same, but Nelly knew that in the long run it would better for Dorothy if there was no baby.
Alice had just finished changing her bed when she heard a woman’s voice shouting from the hallway downstairs. Whoever it was sounded frantic and was calling her name.
‘Mrs Butler … Mrs Butler!’
Alice sped down the stairs as quickly as her worn-out body would allow and was shocked to see Dorothy, looking as if she was at death’s door and being supported by her large friend Nelly. ‘What’s happened? Alice asked, worried sick at the sight of her poorly daughter.
‘She’s losing the baby and she needs to lie down,’ Nelly answered.
‘We can’t let her father see her in that state. Somehow we have to get her upstairs,’ Alice urged, watching despairingly as with a nod Nelly almost carried Dorothy up the stairs and into her bedroom. It was a good job that Nelly was a big girl with the strength to match, thought Alice, knowing her frail body would have been of little help.
‘Mum … Mum … I’m losing my baby,’ Dorothy wept as Nelly laid her down on her bed.
‘I know, love,’ Alice said sadly.
Dorothy cried out in pain and Alice grew concerned at the amount of blood she was losing. She looked awful, as white as a sheet, and as Alice had known a woman who’d haemorrhaged following a miscarriage she said urgently, ‘Nelly, can you run to the phone box and call Dr Stubbs? No, better still, call for an ambulance.’
‘No … no, I don’t want to go to hospital,’ Dottie protested.
‘You’ll do as I say,’ Alice snapped, fear making her sound angry.
‘Your mum is right,’ Nelly said, hurrying off to the phone.
Alice rushed to grab some towels from the bathroom. When she came back, the bedroom seemed to be spinning, so, after placing the towels under her daughter, she was grateful to sit on the edge of her bed. She held her daughter’s hand as Dorothy brought her knees up to her stomach and moaned.
‘I don’t want to lose my baby, Mum.’
‘I know you don’t, but the ambulance will be here soon,’ she said softly, squeezing her daughter’s hand. She hated seeing her suffer and regretted the many times she had wished Dorothy would miscarry.
The poor woman who’d haemorrhaged had died, and if her Dottie died too, Alice knew she would never forgive herself.
Adrian always closed the office early on Christmas Eve but paid his drivers for a full day. It was his way of offering them a little Christmas bonus, plus he included an extra pound in each of their wage packets.
At midday, having locked his office door, he climbed into his car and drove around to the Butlers’ house. His back seat was filled with Christmas gifts for them, and a few tasty treats to add to their Christmas dinner.
He rapped quietly on the door and Alice Butler opened it, but Adrian wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
‘Alice, you look awful. Is everything OK?’ As soon as the words had left his mouth Adrian could have kicked himself. What a thing to say, telling a woman that she looks awful, but the truth was that she did. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes were red and she was still in her nightwear.
‘You’d better come in,’ she said.
‘Thank you, but first I need to unload my car. I’ve got some things for you,’ he said, and hurried to fetch them. He hoped Alice wouldn’t be offended by his gifts as that was the last thing he wanted, but when he followed her through to the small kitchen and placed his items on the table she showed no interest in them.
‘If you’ve come here to give me the weekly money for the baby, then you needn’t bother.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Yeah, well, there’s no baby now. Dottie had a miscarriage,’ Alice said and then sighed heavily before adding, ‘I suppose it’s for the best.’
Adrian felt like he had been kicked in the stomach.