Gracie. Marie Maxwell

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       FOUR

       1946

      ‘Gracie … Why aren’t you up? You’ll be out on your ear if you’re late again …’

      ‘I feel sick and I’ve got belly-ache, I can’t go today …’ Gracie McCabe moaned from her bed.

      ‘Oh yes you can,’ Dot McCabe shouted from the other side of the door, before flinging it open so hard it crashed against the end of the bed. She turned the dim ceiling light on and went into the bedroom. ‘Now you just get out of that bed and get yourself to work. We need the money, you lazy little mare. Get up …’

      When Gracie didn’t move her mother pulled the bedclothes back in one swift movement. ‘What’s going on with you girl? Get your backside up now and get going. If you miss the bus you’ll have to walk, you’re not using my bicycle again.’

      ‘I don’t feel well, I feel sick …’

      ‘That’s no excuse, get out of that bed right now and get yourself dressed.’

      Jennifer and Jeanette, Gracie’s fourteen-year-old twin sisters, who had still been asleep in the double bed across the room, sat up quickly and nudged each other. Both were openly amused that it was their sister in Dot McCabe’s angry firing line instead of them.

      The two girls weren’t identical twins; in fact they were not remotely alike in either appearance or temperament. Despite their mother’s best efforts to dress and treat them the same, they were really just two sisters who happened to be the same age, two sisters with nothing in common except for their birth.

      Jennifer was quiet, academic and very similar in appearance to Gracie and her mother in both stature and features, whereas Jeanette was shorter, her hair naturally fair and her figure curvy, even at fourteen, with a sprinkling of freckles and a loud laugh. She was also prone to getting into trouble both at school and with the neighbours, something which Jennifer never did.

      When they were young they had often bickered but always sided against everyone else, but as they’d grown older their opposing personalities had led them to grow slightly apart and have different friends and hobbies.

      As they sat on the bed watching the scene in front of them, Dot McCabe suddenly realised they were there and nodded her head in their direction.

      ‘These two have got to get ready for school. If you’re going to be sick then get yourself into the kitchen and get a bowl.’

      Gracie threw the rest of her covers off and, with her shoulders hunched and clutching her stomach tightly, she quickly ran from the room, her mother hot on her heels. She knew she wasn’t going to be sick as such but she wasn’t well enough to go to work. She was tired, she was emotional and she was very scared.

      Suddenly she was also fed up with covering up and pretending. It was time for her secret to come out.

      ‘Stop going on at me all the time!’ Gracie screamed with her back to Dot. ‘I’m not going to be sick. I’m in the family way, I feel bad because I’m going to have a baby …’

      Gracie looked defiantly at her mother and watched the colour drain from the woman’s face.

      ‘What did you just say?’

      Suddenly aware of the enormity of what she was saying out loud for the first time, Gracie backed away.

      ‘I said, I said …’ she stuttered. ‘I said, I’m going to have a baby and I can’t go to work.’

      ‘No you’re not, you can’t be,’ her mother interrupted. ‘Don’t say stupid things like that just cos you don’t want to go to work, that’s wicked …’

      ‘Well I am. I’ve not had a show for ages and my belly’s fat. Look.’ With fake bravado Gracie unfolded her arms and patted her eight months pregnant stomach through her thin cotton nightdress, the growing stomach that she’d managed to keep hidden from everyone, both at home and at work.

      Dot McCabe’s expression was almost serene as she looked first at the ceiling and then at her daughter’s swollen belly. She stared quietly for a few moments as she tried to take in the information her oldest child had given her, and then swiftly took two steps forward and slapped her daughter hard around the ear with the flat of her hand.

      Then she completely lost control and did it over and over again, with both hands, hitting her as hard as she could.

      ‘You dirty slut, you’re dirty … dirty! How could you do that? You disgusting creature!’