For a Father's Pride Read Online Free PDF Page A

been given the bedroom a few years before, when she was young and trouble-free. Tears streamed down her face as she choked with
fear and hurt – nobody wanted her, it was for the best – and her legs wobbled like jelly when the chair tipped slightly as she reached too far. One last tug and the curtains would be
loose. Daisy balanced on the very edge of the chair, leaning on the wall as she tugged, and shaking as she checked that the knot she had tied was tight. The next thing she knew, the chair had
tipped from under her and she had banged her head on the edge of her dresser as she hit the floor.
    She lay there, dizzy and dazed, tears pouring from her eyes and the torn curtains around her. Then the pain started, a gut-wrenchingly sharp pain, making Daisy cry out in a scream. Her skirts
were wet and the pain kept pounding. She dragged herself up, pulling her body across to her bed while the jabbing pains kept her bent double. She slumped on the bed. The baby was coming – she
knew the baby was coming – and she needed her mother. She let out another cry and lay on her bed, legs apart and with perspiration dripping from her brow. She raised her head as she heard her
mother turn the key in her bedroom door. She was so thankful Martha had heard her cries.
    She carried a bowl of hot water and looked sombre as she bent down and regarded her daughter giving birth. She should have got Mrs Dinsdale to help her. First births were dangerous, and she knew
that because she’d lost her first. ‘Be brave, Daisy, grit your teeth – it’ll soon be over. Thank God your father’s not here. He’s flown out of the house like the
Devil himself.’ She looked at her daughter, who was in pain and frightened, and noticed the torn curtains and chair next to the window, guessing what she had been up to. Her heart melted for
a moment.
    Daisy let out a scream and gripped her mother’s hand. The baby was coming fast, brought on by the shock of Daisy’s thrashing and the fall from the chair. She put her finger in her
mouth and bit on it hard, to stop her screams, as her mother looked at the progress of her birth. Never had she endured so much pain, and yet in some dales women had a baby each year. How did they
endure it? Another wave of pain hit her and her mother shouted at her to push.
    ‘It’s here, Daisy, I can see its head. Another push and you’re done.’ Martha Fraser wiped her forehead. Thank God Tom had left the house, for he’d not have put up
with the noise.
    With the next big push the baby was out in the world. Its wrinkled red body lay still on the bed, showing no sign of breathing. Martha picked up the baby boy and cleared his airway, slapping his
bottom. There was no response or movement. The wrinkles on his tiny face didn’t move, and the angry little hands remained closed tight. Martha cut his umbilical cord and wrapped the little
body in a blanket that she had brought with her.
    ‘What’s wrong, Mam? Why is it not crying, Mam – tell me, is it dead?’ Daisy pleaded. She was exhausted and fretful for her baby. She hadn’t wanted it, in fact
she’d wished it dead over the months, but now she felt responsible for the child that she had brought into the world.
    ‘I’m sorry, Daisy. Happen it’s for the best – he’d only have brought shame to us.’
    ‘It’s a boy! I’ve had a little boy, let me look.’ Daisy tried to sit up, but cried out in pain.
    ‘Lie still. You’ve to lose your afterbirth yet, and it’s best you don’t see him.’ Martha picked up the baby in the blanket and began to leave the room.
‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
    ‘Don’t leave me, Mam, don’t leave me!’ She was exhausted, and heartbroken at her loss.
    ‘I’ll be back. You’ll want a change of clothes and a wash-down, when you’ve lost all.’ Martha walked out through the door with the bundle under her arm. She cradled
the stillborn baby in her arms, tears falling as she made her way down the stairs to