The Bad Penny (4 page)

Mrs Blake had started violently as Patty entered the room, and now a bright tide of colour mottled her neck and dyed her face pink. ‘Oh – oh, Nurse,’ she faltered. ‘I – I don’t understand it, honest to God I don’t, but me milk’s dried up on me. It – it happened this mornin’. When I went to feed her, she sucked and sucked and then began to howl somethin’ dreadful. I – I don’t have no teats, though I’ve an empty sauce bottle what I could use … Oh, Nurse, I’m ever so sorry.’

Patty sat down on the nearest chair with a thump. She knew very well why Mrs Blake’s milk had dried up and guessed that the other woman knew too and was ashamed. But reproaching her was useless; the damage had been done. Mrs Blake was pregnant once more and nothing Patty could do or say would make any difference.

‘It’s all right, Mrs Blake,’ she said, as gently as she could. ‘Naturally, having lost your last baby, you and Mr Blake are anxious to have another child.’ She put the bag of broken biscuits down on the table and went over to the stove, pulling the kettle over the flame. ‘I’ve brought you some tea and some conny-onny because, heaven knows, I’ve drunk enough cups here and I thought it was about time I gave something back. If you can keep an eye on the kettle and brew the tea when it boils, I’ll just nip back to Mr Glenny at the corner shop and see if he’s got some teats. He seems to sell everything, but I shan’t be more than a few minutes even if I have to go a bit further before I find one.’ She smiled reassuringly at Mrs Blake. ‘Cheer up! I was coming to tell you that I’ve managed to rent one of the landing houses on Ashfield Place, so I should have been taking Merrell away with me in a few days in any case. It will be easier to find adoptive parents if they can come round to my place and see Merrell for themselves. After all, most babies being offered for adoption are weaned on to the bottle at Merrell’s age, if not earlier. What are you feeding her from that bowl anyway?’

Mrs Blake, who had begun to cry, apparently moved to tears by the gentleness in Patty’s voice, swallowed convulsively and said: ‘It’s watered down conny-onny, Nurse. She’ll take to it like a duck to water once you bring back the teats, but she don’t care for the teaspoon. I reckon it seems mortal hard and cold in her little mouth.’

‘Well, don’t try to feed her any more. Just give her a cuddle until I get back,’ Patty said briskly, as she left the kitchen. She was amazed at her own tact and also at her sudden resolve to take Merrell away with her as soon as might be. She had grown quite attached to Mrs Blake and trusted her completely whilst she was breastfeeding, but realised that the other woman probably neither knew nor cared about the importance of sterilisation so far as bottle feeding was concerned. Annie was a pretty child but she had sores round her mouth, and though Mrs Blake did her best all three children suffered from both fleas and head lice. So far, Merrell had remained free from such afflictions, but Patty realised that the child would stand a much better chance of remaining unaffected if she were removed from the Blakes’ home.

Presently, returning with a supply of teats and two more tins of condensed milk, Patty made up a feed with boiling water, then stood the bottle in a bowl of water to cool. When the milk was the correct temperature, she took the baby from Mrs Blake and settled down in the chair her hostess had occupied. As she had hoped, Merrell’s annoyance over the spoon and her hunger contributed to the ease with which she accepted the bottle and presently Patty laid the baby across her shoulder and rubbed the small back gently, astonished at the feeling of warmth and affection which accompanied even this simple action.

‘You was right, Nurse,’ Mrs Blake observed, dipping one of the broken biscuits into her cup of tea and quickly transferring it to her mouth. ‘Merrell’s took to the bottle as though she’s been on it all her life. When will you be taking her away from us?’

‘The day after tomorrow,’ Patty said, making a lightning decision. She had no idea how she would manage, living at No. 24 with almost no furniture and a baby to take care of, but manage she would. ‘If I come round, say at six o’clock in the evening, when I’ve done my visits for the day, would that suit you?’

‘Oh aye, we’ll have her ready for you,’ Mrs Blake agreed at once. ‘Does you have somewhere for her to sleep and cloths for her little bum? I know she’ll want them lovely gowns your pal made, but if you’re goin’ to get her a proper cradle I’ll keep that one Alf made. All me other babbies have slept in it, so it’ll do grand for the next.’

‘I’ll take two of the gowns and a shawl, but leave you everything else,’ Patty said recklessly. ‘She’s going to be adopted, after all, and I wouldn’t let her go to a home where they couldn’t afford to clothe her properly.’

At that moment Merrell gave an enormous burp and Mrs Blake laughed and took her from Patty, laying her down in the wooden cradle which she kept on an old rag rug, close to the fire. ‘It’ll be grand if I have a little girl of me own as pretty as this one,’ she observed, tucking a piece of blanket securely around the child. ‘Now Alf wants a boy, ’cos he says we’ve two girls already, but I’ve a hankerin’ to have another lass. Still an’ all, that’s one thing we can’t choose,’ she ended, straightening up.

Patty smiled and took her outdoor garments off the hooks on the back of the door. She buttoned the coat up tight to her throat, for although March was well advanced the evenings were still very cold. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Blake,’ she said cheerily, lifting the latch. ‘I won’t come round tomorrow because I’ll be busy moving my stuff, but don’t forget to boil the water before you mix it with the conny-onny and then to cool the bottle. Oh, and the teats and the bottle should be boiled in a pan of water for ten minutes or so before each feed. Can you remember that?’

‘Why’s that?’ Mrs Blake said idly, helping herself to another biscuit. Patty realised that because of the new life burgeoning within her Mrs Blake would find it far easier to part with Merrell than she would otherwise have done. She would have her hands full with her three youngsters and was probably secretly quite relieved to have her fosterling taken off her hands.

‘We boil bottles and teats to kill off infection; there are germs in food or milk which is left in the air for too long,’ Patty said. ‘Simply washing them thoroughly isn’t really enough. Boiling water kills most things though, as you can imagine.’ She smiled at Mrs Blake and was about to let herself out of the house when she thought of something else. ‘By the way, can you give the baby a feed just before six when I come to pick her up. It would be a great help if you could.’

Next day, Patty began to regret that she had decided to take the baby so soon. There were complications enough without adding Merrell to the mix. She had managed to arrange for another midwife to cover her district for the day but had not reckoned with the difficulty of acquiring a handcart and someone to push it. In fact, in the end, she gave up on the handcart and hired a tough-looking street urchin with a wheelbarrow. He was a cheerful and willing lad, the eldest son of one of her patients, and trotted up and down the stairs with his arms full of Patty’s possessions. After a couple of journeys, during which he carted her bedding, what little clothing she possessed and her midwifery equipment from Mrs Evans’s lodging house to Ashfield Place, she decided that he was trustworthy and got him to accompany her to Paddy’s market. Here, she purchased the bedstead and mattress, a rickety wooden chair and a battered tin kettle. She piled her new possessions on to the wheelbarrow and, remembering she would need to sterilise bottles – for a while at least – added an ancient saucepan to his load. Then she despatched the boy to Ashfield Place, telling him to wait for her there.

Having done her best to equip her new dwelling, Patty bought a large canvas shopping bag and began to look for food. Apart from her sojourn with Mrs Ruskin, when she had both cooked and done the marketing, she had never shopped. Mrs Evans provided breakfast and an evening meal for her lodgers, and on their days off they made do with a snack midday meal. Now, faced with the enormous choice available, Patty was completely overcome. However, she was a practical girl and decided to buy only the things she would need over the next couple of days. After all, there were dozens of little shops both on Latimer Street and in the rest of the area surrounding her new home. Anything she lacked, she could find locally. Accordingly, she bought a screw of tea, several tins of condensed milk, a small piece of salt from the block, a large loaf of bread and a few other essentials.

Armed with these necessities, she set out for Ashfield Place.

By ten o’clock that night, Patty was sitting in her own chair, in front of her own stove, feeling exhausted but happy. A midwife’s work is both physically and mentally tiring, but rehousing oneself in new property, Patty discovered, was even more so.

For a start, the landing house, which had been previously occupied by an ancient lady and her feckless, idle son, was filthy. When Patty had been shown round it by the landlord, he had assured her that this would be remedied before she moved in, but because of her sudden decision to take possession early he had been unable to keep his promise and the place was still extremely dirty. Patty had given the boy with the wheelbarrow another sixpence to stay and give her a hand and, together, the two of them had toiled until late in the evening, washing down walls, scrubbing floors and cleaning windows. Strong carbolic soap had helped but Patty, very conscious that she was to bring a young baby here next day, disinfected the place so thoroughly that her young helper, wrinkling his nose, stated: ‘It pongs like a bleedin’ hospital.’ Patty thought this fair comment but merely told him that the smell would fade, though the good done by the disinfectant would remain.

To Patty’s dismay, the previous tenants had taken the electric light bulbs, and because she had not noticed she had not replaced them. She had despatched her young helper to buy a couple and later on had also sent him to buy coal and kindling; since she had never been a householder before, it had not occurred to her that she would need to light the fire in the stove before she could boil the kettle.

When the boy had departed, richer by half a crown, she had cut herself a thick round of bread, spread it with margarine and settled down before the newly lit fire. The kettle, purring away over the flame, made her think that a cup of tea would go nicely with the bread and marge, so she made a pot, poured herself a cup, and then returned to her chair, looking round her little kingdom with great content.

Presently, however, sheer weariness told her that if she did not get herself to bed soon she would fall asleep where she sat, so she made her way into her bedroom, removed the enormous overall in which she had been swathed, undressed and climbed into bed. She fell asleep at once.

*

Patty awoke to the pale grey light of dawn and the shrilling of her alarm clock. She half sat up, looking blearily around her whilst she fumbled with the clock mechanism; it always annoyed her sleeping companions when someone’s alarm awoke the whole room. Then she looked around her and was mystified for a moment to find herself in a large, bare space, without another soul in sight. There were no curtains across the windows, no linoleum on the floor and, strangest of all, no cramped and crowded beds full of other girls. But since the alarm had gone off, she swung her legs out of bed, and even as her feet touched the floorboards she remembered. She had left Mrs Evans’s lodging house – and all other lodging houses – behind her and was now the proud owner, so long as she paid the rent, of No. 24 Ashfield Place.

But there was no time right now to revel in the new life which she felt sure was beginning for her; she must get up, dress, and make herself some breakfast. She had a busy day ahead of her, and since she was back on duty once more might have a disturbed night as well. She was about to start dressing when she remembered that she had banked up the fire in the kitchen; why should she not get dressed there? It was extremely cold in the bedroom and since she did not possess either a basin or a ewer, let alone a wash stand, she might as well both wash and dress in the warm kitchen.

Feeling deliciously guilty, Patty scooped up her uniform, shoved her bare feet into her lace-up shoes and made her way into the kitchen. As she had hoped, the fire was still in, though smouldering sullenly, and a couple of jabs with the poker soon had it roaring up once more. Patty emptied the contents of the kettle into the bowl in the sink. The water was tepid but comfortable, especially when she thought of the scamped and chilly washes she had taken under Mrs Evans’s roof. It was a pity there were no curtains but Patty draped a thin towel across the window before stripping off and having a thorough wash. After that, having dressed at speed, she refilled the kettle from the tap in the low stone sink and put it over the fire. It would have been nice to start the day with something hot, a bowl of porridge for instance, but Patty’s forethought had not extended to such luxuries, so it would have to be tea and bread and margarine once more, since she could not spare the time even to toast the bread. Today would be a busy one, as most of her days were. Babies arrive at their own convenience and no doubt, when Patty went round to her standin’s home, she would find some new names had been added to her list. Furthermore, it was not only other people’s babies who would be her concern, for at six o’clock this evening she was fetching Merrell from the Blakes’ house and would have to make provision for her.

Having got ready for the day ahead, Patty damped down the fire, cast a comprehensive look around her kitchen and headed for the door. If she had time, she would try to buy some more groceries; she was already getting tired of bread and margarine. Outside her door, she unchained her bicycle from the balcony railings, pushed it along the landing and thumped it down the metal steps, not bothering to go quietly since there were lights in most of the windows she passed. To her annoyance, it was raining, but Nurse Watkin, who had stood in for her yesterday, only lived a couple of streets away and, no doubt, would ask her in whilst they discussed Patty’s patients. And when I get home tonight, Patty told herself dreamily, mounting the bicycle, Merrell and I will have each other for company in our own little home. The thought cheered her throughout a long and busy day.