Something I want no one else to know about no2

“They say there should be no secrets between a married couple but there was one thing I could never tell Mary. Since it all happened before I ever set eyes on her I suppose she didn’t need to know. But it meant I lied about many, many things, not least money.
It happened this way starting at Betty Staff’s Dance Studio in Arthur Square on Boxing night 1932.
“Come on fellas, lift one of these lovely ladies for a dance. Ye ought tae be ashamed of yourselves, standin’ in the corner with all these beautiful ladies dressed and out for the evenin’.”
Old Raymondo the dance instructor was enviegling us to make a move and dance with the girls. We were pathetic. Standin’ smokin’ at the side eyein’ the girls, all dressed up, and them eyin’us. Us wonderin’ about them and them wonderin’ about us. It took old Raymondo to get us goin’ and ask the girls to dance. If the truth be known we moved because we were terrified of Betty Staff comin’ to urge us on. She was scary, bright blond hair, lipstick and a bright red tight evening dress.
Anyway, over I goes and lifts this pretty little mousey haired one. Jean, she said her name was. We danced the night through until midnight when Betty’s shut up for th’ night. I asked if I could walk her home an’ she said yes. She lived on the Mountpottinger Road. At least that wasn’t too far away. My mates were laughin’ at me but away we went anyway.
As we walked over the Queen’s Bridge it started to snow a wee bit. I snuggled her up under my arm and under my new coat. She was lovely and warm and soft.
At the corner of Station Street I pushed her up the entry, and God forgive me, I did it to her. I think it was her first time because she cried and cried. It was certainly mine.
I promised to call the next day to see her at the toy counter in Woolies where she worked. But I didn’t. My mate, Geordie, when I told him about it, sneered “Don’t you be daft. She’s nothing but a good thing if she’s as easy as that.”
About two months later there was a knock on the front door. Thank God I was the only one in, because there she was, bold as brass. I put on my cap and pulled her along the street before mammy got back from the co-op. She told me she was expectin’ and that it was my child. Jesus, I was only seventeen just before Christmas and wouldn’t be outa my time for five more years.
I thought and thought. She wouldn’t get rid of it, because her sister had died last year after goin’ to get rid of a child. (was Geordie right? Dunno). Anyway I made this plan that she would go to England to have the child and then we’d see. I pawned me granda’s watch and medals which were mine as he had left them to me to get her the fare and a couple of pounds to keep her over there.
She went on the Heysham boat and got to Birmingham where my son was born. She called him William after me. But she wouldn’t give him up. So I scrimped and scratched for money to send her when I could. I did this all my life until William was sixteen. I tried to get to see him, but she wouldn’t let me. By this time I had met your sister Mary and you know the rest of the story.
I swear, John, I never meant Mary any harm, but I didn’t mean wee Jean any harm either. It was the way things happen sometimes. And now they’re both gone and I’m tellin’ you this now that Mary’s in her grave and no-one can be hurt ‘cept me. I wonder where William is? I am so lonely with not a child to comfort me now.

Maureen Davidson