Love & Sorrow by Jenny Telfer Chaplin Page B

door.
    “Ah suppose it’s her bluidy paypoke ye’re efter. Ah
cannae imagine it’s the doubtful pleasure o Becky’s company, is it noo?”
    A scandalised shout was quickly followed by Aunt Meg’s
shocked tones. “That’s a terrible thing to say, Nellie. Surely you know–”
    “Whit a dae ken is this: surely tae heaven Ah’m
entitled tae some kind o reward in ma auld age for haen kept up the pretence aw
this wheen o years? No much tae ask that, noo is it? For helpin ye tae … for
protecting yer guid name.”
    There seemed to be no reply to this from Meg. Becky
pressed her ear even harder against the panel of the door.
    “Damnit aw tae hell, Meg, let’s face it. If is wisnae
for me still keepin ma mooth shut … if Ah wis tae tell the world whit Ah ken
there’s wan thing sure … if Ah wis tae spill the beans tae yer guid man Jack
and aw the rest o the folk roon aboot, ye’d damn sure be drummed oot o aw yon
fancy flower-arrangin and ither such ladylike falderals. Aye, yer minister and
yon toffee-nosed wife o his, they widnae think ye such a prissy wee goody two
shoes then, noo wid they? You a fallen woman wi a bastard child … God Almighty,
but the minute they found oot aboot yer daughter Becky–”
    At these words, together with an angry shout, there was
the sound of a chair being scraped back across the linoleum floor. Realising
immediately what this implied, Becky decided to take flight. She flung the
shawl she still had in her hand around her shoulders, with trembling fingers
turned the brass knob of the hall’s outer door, and ran out on the landing
pulling the door closed behind her.
    She then re-entered the flat noisily, slamming the door
behind her and shouting: “Yoo hoo, Mammy, it’s only me.”
    Almost immediately she was face-to-face in the lobby
with Aunt Meg as she emerged from the kitchen. Affecting what she fervently
hoped was an expression of surprise and pleasure at this unexpected meeting,
Becky said: “What a surprise, Aunt Meg, to see you again so soon.”
    After a quizzical glance at Becky, Meg gave her a
perfunctory peck on the cheek and in a voice Becky realised was choked with
tears said: “Becky! Sorry I can’t stop, dear. I stopped in for a minute to see
you’re … er … to see my sister. I must rush off now, Jack’s expecting me back.”
    And with that she was off.
    This time Becky took her time to hang up her shawl very
carefully before she turned towards the kitchen. With her hand on the door
handle she wondered if her mammy – How on earth should she address the woman
now? Would her ‘mammy’ make any reference to what had just passed between
herself and her genteel sister?

 
    ***

 
 
 
    Chapter 7

 
    In the days that followed, Becky found she could not
get that overheard conversation out of her head. Should she confront her mammy
or her Aunt Meg or perhaps better still both of them? That would require
confessing that she had deliberately eavesdropped on their conversation. If the
conversation did indeed mean she was the daughter of Aunt Meg should she admit
that from the depths of her being she would much rather be the natural,
illegitimate daughter of her beloved Aunt Meg than the legally born-in-wedlock
daughter of a woman with whom she had nothing in common?
    After days of mental anguish Becky was no nearer to
making a decision.

 
    A week later walking home from work with Caz, Becky
said: “Caz, I need to talk to you – the thing is … my worst nightmare … there’s
something troubling me.”
    A look of consternation clouded Caz’s face. “Oh, naw,
for God’s sake, naw! Don’t tell me ye’re the next tae get caught – like ma
sister Lizzy. Ye didnae let that bampot Colin gae aw the wa wi ye efter the
last dance?”
    Becky felt hot colour rush to her face and was glad the
street’s dim gas light would help hide her embarrassment from her friend. When
she could trust herself to speak Becky said: “Caz! Can you think of nothing
else these