Josephine Cox - Songbird

Quickly now, she pushed the sleeping Michael into the corner shop beside her and bought some crisps and a magazine. She was exhilarated. He had Maddy’s address: he had seen it, and knew the note was meant for him. But thankfully, he did not know who had delivered it, and that was fine. Just fine!

Congratulating herself, she paid the shopkeeper a pound to phone and order a taxi, and then she and Michael were on their way to a new life.

From Blackpool station, the pair traveled to Euston, and from there to Waterloo and Southampton, and the ferry-port.

By evening time, they were boarding the ferry to the Isle of Wight. Standing on deck with the baby wrapped snugly in her arms, Ellen watched as the lights of the mainland shore receded in the dark-blue night.

Ellen had so wanted to change Michael’s name, but felt as though in changing it, she might be doing him an injustice. “Michael,” she kept repeating it. “Michael Drew: it has a certain ring about it. And if over the years people call you Mick, that’s all right too.”

She decided it didn’t matter that he had been named by Maddy, because he was his own little character now, and besides, his mother had not seen him grow and flourish like she had. Maddy didn’t know him; she had surrendered her right to him the minute she left. “You’re my responsibility now, darling,” Ellen whispered, and glanced up as though talking to some unseen being. “That’s right, isn’t it? Michael is my son, now and forever.”

Not far away, a woman and her husband had been watching her. “She’s a strange one,” the woman commented now. “She’s holding the child so tight to her, that it can hardly breathe. It’s like she’s afraid someone might snatch it away.”

“Stop staring, Nancy!” Her husband drew her away. “The poor woman’s probably afraid he might fall into the water.”

“Then why has she come out here, tell me that?” There was something about Ellen that made her curious. “I saw her inside and she was just as strange then… nervously looking about, as though someone might be after taking her child.”

Persuading her away, her husband lightheartedly chided, “Honestly, Nancy! As always, your imagination is working overtime. The poor girl’s probably had a bad experience or something. Either way, it’s none of our business.”

Oblivious to the lookers-on, Ellen felt happier than she had done in a long time.

Smiling into the little one’s sleeping face, she snuggled him even closer to her. “I’ll work hard to make a life for the two of us,” she promised, “and don’t you worry: nobody will ever find us where we’re going.”

She thought of Maddy. And her grandfather. And for just the briefest moment, wondered if she would be lonely without them.

Then she saw the baby’s eyes open, as he gazed up at her, trusting her unquestioningly, like a child does. And her heart soared. “We don’t need them,” she told him. “We’ll always have each other.”

Then, deciding it was too chilly out here on deck, she took Michael inside, still pressing him to her, as though she would never let him go.

Back in Blackpool, Bob had come home from his outing full of the joys of spring and in possession of two packets of fish and chips for him and Ellen, only to find the note propped up against the kettle.

“By!” he muttered. While he understood that Ellen needed to get to Maddy, he was deeply hurt at the manner of her going. “Well, I never! What was so urgent that she couldn’t have waited till I got back!”

He dumped the soggy bags from the chippie on the table, his appetite gone. What with Maddy’s sudden disappearance, now Ellen’s, he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.

Going slowly upstairs, he wandered through the rooms, and where there had been Ellen and the baby, there was now the most awful silence.

Standing by the door he felt incredibly lonely, wondering if he would ever see them again. It might have been better if Ellen had never come back at all, he thought, because this time, what with Maddy and the baby and all, he’d miss them more than ever.

Half an hour later, he was still there, sitting on the bed, reliving all the pleasant times they’d enjoyed. “By! That little lad did enjoy the beach, didn’t he, eh? Squealed every time he saw a wave come in, and when we took him for a trip to the Pleasure Beach in his pushchair, the look on his little face was pure magic.”

It was that particular memory that broke the old chap’s resolve, because now he could not hold back his emotions. He laughed and cried, but after a time he began to deal with the knowledge that he was on his own again. “You’ll manage all right, Bob,” he told himself sternly. “You’ve done it before, and you can do it again.” All the same, it was a painful thing.

Surprised to hear the phone ringing, he went down the stairs two at a time. That’ll be our Ellen, he thought, and his heart lifted. She’ll be full of apologies, same as always.

Snatching up the phone, he said straightaway, “Why didn’t you wait, pet? I can tell you it were a bit of a shock finding that-” He was cut short when a strange voice asked to speak with Ellen.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s a friend of hers… Raymond.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard her speak about you. But Ellen’s not here, I’m afraid. She’s gone away.”

There was a brief silence, before Raymond asked, “Do you know where she’s gone?”

“She’s gone to see her friend, Maddy. I’ve no idea how long she’ll be away. She’s always been a bit of a gypsy, has our Ellen – teks off at the drop of a hat, and sometimes you won’t clap eyes on her for years.”

“I see.” Another brief pause. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a telephone number or an address where I can reach her, have you?”

“Yes, I think so. My granddaughter did write something down. Hang on a minute and I’ll get it for you.”

Going to the telephone table, he picked up the address book and opened it, astonished to see that the very page with Maddy’s contact number and address on it had been torn out. Now, why would she do that? Why didn’t she just copy it down? He thought it an odd thing to do, tearing out the page like that.

Returning to the phone he told Raymond, “I’m sorry, but she seems to have taken the address and phone number with her.”

“And have you no other way of contacting her?”

“’Fraid not, no. But she left me a note to say she’d be in touch as soon as she got settled. When she does, I’ll tell her you rang, and I’ve no doubt she’ll get back to you.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

The conversation was ended, leaving Bob even more confused by his granddaughter’s action. “She must have been in a terrible hurry to rip out the page like that,” he muttered irritably. “Seems she hadn’t even got the time it would take to jot down the information.”

He shook his head in frustration. “That lass is a mystery to me. I never have been able to fathom her. Too much like her mother, that one!”

It was nearly midnight when Ellen disembarked at East Cowes. After traveling all day, with a heavy baby, an even heavier bag, and a pushchair, she was exhausted, but keeping going on pure adrenaline. Fortunately, a kindly steward from the ferry helped her find a taxi, recommending a good boardinghouse along the coast at Ryde, eight miles away.

“It’s called Seaview House,” he told her. “I’ve used it many a time myself when family visit. The landlady there loves kids, so you’ll be fine. She has fourteen grandchildren herself, scattered all over the island. Off you go, love – I’ll phone her if you like, let her know you’re on your way. She’s a nightbird, so she’ll still be up. What name shall I say? Mrs. Drew? I’ll do that right away. Have a lovely holiday, won’t you. See you on the return trip!” And off he went to make the call, after giving the taxi driver the full details.