was to comfort her when she began teething? When would she begin to crawl? When would she take her first steps? Who would be there to see her first laugh? When would she begin to form her first words? Would she cry on her first day at school? Who would take her there? What is in store for her when she grows up? Would they ever meet? What would her new parents be like? She was inconsolable with grief but knew the clock could not be turned back.
The next day she was back at work. Colleagues sympathised with her over her illness but were aware that their queries as to what had been wrong were met with vague looks and not really answered. That first night, lying in bed, Hannah found it impossible to sleep, as she restlessly tossed and turned before abandoning any hope of relief from the torment. Her uncertainties were dominated by the future, but it was the past and its memories that took over.
A month later, in February, Hannah read that a man named Thomas Ross Young, a lorry driver, had been jailed for eight years. He had offered to give a girl aged 15 a lift but stopped at Abington, 35 miles south of Glasgow, on the main west coast route into England, where she was savagely attacked and raped. Hannah hardly needed reminding of that terrible night nearly a year ago when someone had offered her a lift, but seeing the newspaper article brought it flooding back.
‘I know what that girl must feel,’ she thought to herself. ‘I wonder if she’s pregnant?’ But there were few with whom she could share her thoughts.
TEN
TEA IN THE GRASS
Malcolm’s insistence that Hannah give up her daughter for fear of the shame her existence would bring on him was puzzling. His own father had been adopted and so the family had come to know what it was like to feel unwanted. It was strange that he should be so unsympathetic to a woman, particularly one formed from his own flesh and blood, who found herself in the family way before tying the knot.
The relationship between father and daughter was close and loving, as good as either could have hoped for. When Hannah was a youngster, Malcolm had fought her corner and his protective attitude towards her provoked envy in many of her school friends.
He and Jessie had married at the end of December 1945, when he was aged twenty-three and she three years younger, exchanging their vows knowing she was already pregnant. Just seven and a half months later, on 14 July 1946, Isobel, their first child, was born.
Fortunately for the couple, such a relatively short pregnancy and early arrival was not uncommon at this time. The end of the Second World War had seen many thousands of young men sent home, some of whom had neither seen their girlfriends nor slept with a woman for years. It was hardly surprising therefore that, after such long periods of enforced separation, many young men and women discovered they were about to become parents and so hastily arranged marriages followed. If a baby arrived before the ensuing nine months were over, the excuse would be made that the baby was the result of a premature birth.
After Isobel, Jessie had fallen pregnant again. She and her husband had desperately hoped for a son and their prayers were answered with a chubby boy with red curls for hair whom they named Richard. But it was soon obvious something was wrong with the baby. The child’s body began developing at an abnormal rate. It is possible he was a victim of the rare Proteus syndrome. The result was tragic and Richard died before he reached his first birthday. His parents were shattered by the youngster’s death, but the effect on Jessie was devastating. She had pinned her hopes on having a boy and now he had gone. A doctor called in to comfort her and gave her the best advice he could offer. ‘Have another baby, and have it right away.’
So Jessie fell pregnant for a third time. She suffered from heart disease and carrying a baby and giving birth could place huge strains on that vital organ;
The next day she was back at work. Colleagues sympathised with her over her illness but were aware that their queries as to what had been wrong were met with vague looks and not really answered. That first night, lying in bed, Hannah found it impossible to sleep, as she restlessly tossed and turned before abandoning any hope of relief from the torment. Her uncertainties were dominated by the future, but it was the past and its memories that took over.
A month later, in February, Hannah read that a man named Thomas Ross Young, a lorry driver, had been jailed for eight years. He had offered to give a girl aged 15 a lift but stopped at Abington, 35 miles south of Glasgow, on the main west coast route into England, where she was savagely attacked and raped. Hannah hardly needed reminding of that terrible night nearly a year ago when someone had offered her a lift, but seeing the newspaper article brought it flooding back.
‘I know what that girl must feel,’ she thought to herself. ‘I wonder if she’s pregnant?’ But there were few with whom she could share her thoughts.
TEN
TEA IN THE GRASS
Malcolm’s insistence that Hannah give up her daughter for fear of the shame her existence would bring on him was puzzling. His own father had been adopted and so the family had come to know what it was like to feel unwanted. It was strange that he should be so unsympathetic to a woman, particularly one formed from his own flesh and blood, who found herself in the family way before tying the knot.
The relationship between father and daughter was close and loving, as good as either could have hoped for. When Hannah was a youngster, Malcolm had fought her corner and his protective attitude towards her provoked envy in many of her school friends.
He and Jessie had married at the end of December 1945, when he was aged twenty-three and she three years younger, exchanging their vows knowing she was already pregnant. Just seven and a half months later, on 14 July 1946, Isobel, their first child, was born.
Fortunately for the couple, such a relatively short pregnancy and early arrival was not uncommon at this time. The end of the Second World War had seen many thousands of young men sent home, some of whom had neither seen their girlfriends nor slept with a woman for years. It was hardly surprising therefore that, after such long periods of enforced separation, many young men and women discovered they were about to become parents and so hastily arranged marriages followed. If a baby arrived before the ensuing nine months were over, the excuse would be made that the baby was the result of a premature birth.
After Isobel, Jessie had fallen pregnant again. She and her husband had desperately hoped for a son and their prayers were answered with a chubby boy with red curls for hair whom they named Richard. But it was soon obvious something was wrong with the baby. The child’s body began developing at an abnormal rate. It is possible he was a victim of the rare Proteus syndrome. The result was tragic and Richard died before he reached his first birthday. His parents were shattered by the youngster’s death, but the effect on Jessie was devastating. She had pinned her hopes on having a boy and now he had gone. A doctor called in to comfort her and gave her the best advice he could offer. ‘Have another baby, and have it right away.’
So Jessie fell pregnant for a third time. She suffered from heart disease and carrying a baby and giving birth could place huge strains on that vital organ;
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