When the Bough Breaks by Connie Monk Read Free Book Online

able to forget poor Chummy. As she raised her face to Dennis’s, her lips parted and his mouth covered hers, not in the brief habitual kiss, but in a caress that told her nothing had changed between them. Only when he spoke did his words surprise her.
    â€˜There never was much of you, but Kathie you’ve got really skinny. You work too hard.’
    â€˜Silly! I’m peasant type; I’m not the sort to sit around. You should know that.’
    â€˜Peasant type suits me fine. You deserve better than I give you though.’
    â€˜Den, darling Den,’ she said with a laugh that proved another change brought by the years: he had just told her tonight’s supper would be Chummy’s last and she had learnt to accept that this was how they lived. Had some of her spirit been crushed? When she answered he knew that her mind hadn’t gone further than what he’d been saying. ‘What could be better that what we have here? I wouldn’t change a thing.’
    But even as she said it she knew it wasn’t strictly true. After over six years of marriage they must surely accept they would never have children. Suppose the fault was with
him.
Suppose he couldn’t make a woman pregnant. There were some men who couldn’t; she had read an article about it on the medical page of a magazine she’d found on a side table in the library. Yet each month she believed she saw accusation in the way he looked at her. There’s nothing wrong with
me
, again and again she told herself. What was it she had read in the article about a low sperm count? She almost wished she hadn’t looked at the magazine. Now that she knew the trouble could be with the man as easily as with the woman it seemed to change how she felt when they made love. It still sometimes gave the same physical pleasure, but something really fundamental was lost. The change in her feelings was subtle; sometimes she was able to believe she imagined it.
    She soon absorbed all she learned from Mrs Beeton. These days there was no need for her to get out her notebook and follow instructions on what to do with jointed Chummy. She could have written her own cookery book; she knew just how to cure hams and bacon, how to make good dishes from offal and how to make brawn. The only thing she rejected was the chitterlings – but Stanley Stone happily took them home, added to the chops she shared with both lads. She had learnt a good deal about the outside work, but her natural flair was in turning a house into a home, whether it was with the food she cooked, the way she arranged the greenery from the hedgerows, or the wild flowers when the season was right, or her knack of bringing a room to life with colourful cushion covers and draught excluders she made from scraps of remnants she bought for next to nothing.
    Time is said to be the greatest healer and when her monthly disappointment arrived always on time it lost some of its power.
    Then in the spring of 1933 the miracle happened. After nearly ten years of marriage she was pregnant. Her own fear that she was barren disappeared, as did her suspicion that Dennis was less of a man than he believed himself to be.
    Her natural good health was given a boost by her feeling of inner joy. So through the early months of pregnancy Kathie thrived. The changes in her body were a source of excitement and pride, pride tinged with joy and thankfulness when she saw the way Dennis looked at her. Perhaps she would give him that army of sons after all. In those months often she thought of her mother with a new understanding.
    With five months still to wait the second bedroom was ready for the new arrival and for Kathie it was the most natural thing in the world to spend any spare hours working out of doors. She wasn’t as nimble as she had been in previous years, but any discomfort she felt (even to herself she refused to call it pain) she accepted as part of her new and exciting experience.
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