Anne Bennett - A Little Learning

She wondered if her mom would broach the subject of the eleven-plus to her father that night. Miss Wentworth had told her that the first exam was soon, and that she needed extra tuition. She knew her mother couldn’t wait indefinitely, and she also knew that Mom tended to tackle things straight away, head on.

She’d loved to have heard what they were saying, but although she could hear the drone of voices they weren’t distinct enough to make out the actual words. She wondered if she should get out of bed. She’d never listened at doors before, but this was her future they were discussing.

The cold made her gasp as she stood on the freezing linoleum in her bedroom, and her bed looked very welcoming. She turned her back on it, slipped a jumper over her head and old shoes on her feet and tiptoed out to huddle on the stairs.

Bert and Betty were having a cup of cocoa before bed. Bert had had enough to drink to make him view the world with a rosy glow, and his earlier bad mood was forgotten.

Betty was glad that her husband had reached that mellow point, because she had to get this business of Janet and the exam cleared up. Her daughter and the teacher were keen enough, and she wanted what was best for Janet. She knew that speed was essential. It was also essential for another reason, but no one knew about that but Breda.

‘Not again!’ she’d exclaimed as Betty whispered her suspicions to her sister that evening.

‘Ssh,’ Betty cautioned. They’d been in the canteen, and Breda’s voice carried.

‘Well, I mean, Bet, really,’ Breda said, though she lowered her voice considerably. ‘What you trying to do? Populate the whole of the bleeding British Isles by yourself?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Betty said. ‘It just happened.’

‘Don’t you be daft,’ Breda retorted. ‘It doesn’t just happen. You know what causes it, for God’s sake. Didn’t he take any precautions?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on, girl, you weren’t born yesterday. Don’t he wear a johnny? You know what they are.’

Betty couldn’t believe that such words were coming out of her younger sister’s mouth.

‘I … I’ve never … I couldn’t … Bert wouldn’t.’

Breda looked at her sister with pity. ‘You couldn’t even bring it up with him, could you?’

Miserably, Betty shook her head. ‘Then you have to get yourself seen to,’ Breda said. ‘As soon as this is over, I’m taking you up the clinic.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I thought you knew all about it, our Bet,’ Breda said in amazement. She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘It’s like you were born yesterday. Look,’ she went on, ‘there’s this little rubber thing that you shove up inside you and it protects you, you see.’

‘Oh no, I couldn’t,’ Betty said.

‘Course you could,’ Breda retorted. ‘I do. Anyway, Bet, the choice as I see it is, either you use this cap that your old man don’t have to know anything about, or you tell him to keep his bloody hands to himself when he reaches out in the dark.’

‘He was away six years,’ Betty said, somewhat stiffly.

‘I know that. So were countless others, like my Peter. Doesn’t give him the right to try and populate the universe single-handed,’ Breda said. ‘Anyway, our Linda’s one body’s work, and I certainly don’t want no more.’

Betty stared at her sister. Breda knew as well as Betty did that it was wrong to plan one’s family. The priests were telling you that all the time.

Neither of the sisters went to church very often now, but they’d been brought up as staunch Catholics and the Church’s teaching went deep. Betty had been a regular attender when she was younger, and even when she was first married, and Duncan had been down to go to the Abbey Roman Catholic school, just outside Erdington village, and a short bus ride away. When war broke out, however, and Betty joined up as an ARP warden, Duncan was enrolled in Paget Road, just round the corner from where they lived, and Janet followed him there.

The priest had called to see Betty after her prolonged absence from church had been noted, but by that time, Mrs McClusky was beginning to curse the God who had taken her son from her, and was short with the priest. He came back later, when Betty was at home. ‘I have to send the children to school somewhere,’ she cried when the priest appeared to judge her by his very silence, ‘and it’s too much for Mom fetching them from the Abbey.’

‘I understand it’s difficult for you at the moment,’ the priest said soothingly.

‘Do you?’ Betty burst out angrily, suddenly enraged that the priest was seemingly untouched by a war that had ripped their family apart. ‘Do you really? My husband’s overseas, one brother’s dead, the other two are still fighting. My parents haven’t time to grieve, they’re too busy looking after Duncan and Janet so I can work as an ARP warden. In our own small way, we are doing our bit to win this war, and you are concerned about where my children go to school.’

The priest never came back, and Betty felt as if she’d scored a small triumph. Yes, she’d had her moment of rebellion, but a sin was still a sin.

She hesitated to broach the subject with Breda, certain that her sister would mock, but her conscience troubled her. She had to try.

‘Breda, don’t you worry about saying things like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘You know, planning your family.’

Breda stared at Betty. She couldn’t understand her sister. All that carnage of war, all those people mutilated and killed, and she still believed in God and was terrified to do what the priests said was wrong. How the hell would they know anyway? she thought.

Aloud she said, ‘Don’t tell me you believe it’s a sin, or I’ll fall about laughing.’

Betty was silent.

‘You do, don’t you?’ Breda cried. ‘How can it be anyone else’s business how many children people have?’

Betty didn’t know. She was hazy over the reasons why the Church was against birth control; she just knew they were. The hooter went before she could think of an answer. Break was over and it was back to work for the rest of the shift, her thoughts whirling in her head.

She was on the capping machine and so was working on her own, with no opportunity to talk to Breda, or anyone else either. It was as they walked home together that Breda suddenly said:

‘What did your Bert say when you told him?’

‘I haven’t told him,’ Betty said.

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve only just missed. I mean, it could all be a false alarm.’ But she knew it couldn’t be. This would be her fourth pregnancy, and the bodily changes, though minimal so far, were definite enough.

‘Is that the real reason?’

Betty hesitated, and then said, ‘Part of it. I want to keep it a secret a bit longer anyway. I mean, he’ll hardly be pleased. We have enough of a struggle to manage now, and there’s this business of our Janet wanting to sit the eleven-plus.’

Breda was impressed, but not totally surprised. ‘Mam mentioned something about it,’ she said. ‘Your Janet always was bright, though.’

‘The teacher thinks so too,’ Betty said. ‘And she thinks Janet has a good chance of getting through the exam, but …’

‘Bert’s not keen,’ Breda put in.

‘He doesn’t think it’s necessary,’ Betty said.

‘Course it isn’t necessary,’ Breda said sarcastically. ‘Not for him it’s not. As long as he has someone to cook his dinner, wash and iron his clothes, clean up after him, look after his kids and be ready to accommodate him in bed, he’s happy. He goes to work, and on Friday he tips up the amount of money he thinks you should manage on, and if you can’t it’s your fault. The rest is his, to spend at the club, or betting on a horse, or going to football, or any other bloody thing he likes.’