Page 28 of The Mother-in-Law

‘That’s none of your concern.’ She clapped her hands together twice. ‘All right girls, time for bed, don’t dillydally.’

‘Matron,’ I said, louder now. ‘Where has Pammy been moved?’

Matron’s eyes flashed. ‘Are you going to start causing trouble, Diana? I thought you were one of the more sensible girls here.’

‘I . . .’ I start, but I feel Laurel tug my hand. Something in her eyes makes me abandon the conversation with Matron and follow her into the corridor, where she falls into step beside me.

‘Has Pammy been saying anything about wanting to keep her baby?’

‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘Has she said anything about her baby at all?’

I thought about that. ‘Well . . . she gave her a name.’

‘Her?’

I shrugged. ‘She thinks it’s a girl.’

Laurel nodded knowingly.

‘What?’

‘It happened the first time I was here. To Josephine. One day she told everyone she’d decided to keep her baby and that she was going to tell Matron. The next day she was gone.’

‘So Josephine kept her baby?’

‘We assumed so. But I saw her on the outside, a year or so later. She told me they kept her downstairs in a different room—a cell almost—and wouldn’t let her see anyone. They put her to work, night and day—cleaning, doing dishes, cooking. They said that if she wasn’t giving her baby up she’d have to pay for all of her living and hospital expenses herself, and she needed to start working for them right away. They worked her so hard she went into labour a month early. And when she had her baby, she hadn’t paid off her debt, so they held the baby to ransom. Eventually she had no choice but to hand the little thing over. My guess is that’s what has happened to Pammy too.’

‘Enough of that chatter,’ Matron said from the other end of the corridor. ‘Off to bed with you all.’

I never saw Pammy again.

Mother came to visit when my belly was so round and tight that I couldn’t put on my shoes and I had been wearing slide-on slippers for weeks. Mother was wearing her hat and gloves, as though she was going to church.

‘I want to keep my baby,’ I told her as she sat on the vinyl-back chair. ‘But I need your help.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Mother said.

‘It’s not ridiculous,’ I said. ‘It’s 1970. Single women have babies nowadays.’

She smiled, humouring me. ‘Oh? Which women are you referring to?’

I didn’t know any, of course. But I was certain they existed. The news said things were changing, that women were being granted more rights. Apparently women were able to access welfare to help them support themselves and their babies.

‘Meredith is divorced,’ I said, because Meredith was the closest thing I knew to a single mother. My dad’s cousin Meredith had left her husband a couple of years earlier after finding out he was unfaithful. Unfortunately it was not the best example. Divorce had ruined Meredith socially, not to mention financially. She had been tossed out of her luxurious Hawthorn home and now lived in a rented house in Melbourne’s industrial west. She’d got herself a job, apparently, in a factory cafeteria.

‘Do you want to end up like Meredith?’ Mother asked, still playing innocent.

‘I can just leave here, you know. There’s no lock on the door.’ In fact, I had no idea if that was true. In any case, I certainly wouldn’t be telling Matron about my plans. ‘I don’t need your approval.’

‘I suppose that’s true,’ she said, unperturbed. ‘But what would you do then? Bring the baby back to your father’s house? I don’t think so.’

‘I’d get my own place.’ I lifted my chin.

‘With what money? Who would rent a house to a pregnant single woman with no qualifications to work?’

‘I’d stay with friends.’