The Clippie Girls (29 page)

‘D’you want us to fetch anyone else, Mrs Sylvester?’ Joe enquired.

Mary shook her head helplessly. ‘I don’t know who to fetch.’

‘A doctor, maybe?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Right, I’ll go and see ’f I can knock one up.’ Joe reached for his bicycle and was soon pedalling up the street.

‘I must get back. See if there’s anything I can do,’ Mary murmured.

‘You do that, love, but I’ll be right here if you want owt doing.’

‘Thank you, Tom.’

‘Think nowt on it, lass. Now off you go.’

When Mary hurried back upstairs and opened the bedroom door, it was to hear Letty encouraging Peggy to relax and breathe deeply. Then her glance went beyond the writhing figure to the far side of the bed. Myrtle was standing there, holding her sister’s hand and repeating every word that Letty said. But in the young girl’s voice there was the tone of authority.

‘Come on, Peggy, try to do what Mrs Bradshaw’s telling you. The baby can’t get out if you’re all tensed up and you’re making the pain worse. Breathe deeply in – out – in – out. And try to relax your whole body. That’s better.’ Myrtle glanced up. ‘Is that right, Mrs Bradshaw?’

Letty nodded. ‘You carry on, lass. She’s takin’ more notice of you.’

Mary moved closer to the bed. ‘Is there anything I can do, Mrs Bradshaw?’

‘I reckon it’s high time you called me Letty, don’t you?’ She paused and then added pointedly, ‘Mary?’

Mary smiled weakly. ‘Yes. And I’m very grateful to you – Letty.’

Letty turned her attention back to Peggy. ‘Do you feel the urge to push, love?’

‘I don’t know,’ Peggy wailed. ‘It hurts so.’

Letty spread the girl’s legs wide apart. ‘Try a little push – just a gentle one. That’s it. Head’s showing. Now pant.’

Peggy began to breathe deeply again.

‘No, no, Peg,’ Myrtle said. ‘Pant. Like this.’ And she demonstrated, sounding just like someone who’d run a mile.

But Peggy threw back her head and screamed, making no effort to do what she was being told.

‘Oh dear,’ Mary wrung her hands and tears filled her eyes. ‘Whatever are we to do? If only someone would come.’

Above the noise her sister was making, Myrtle spoke sternly. ‘You can stop that noise right now, Peg. Pant, can’t you?’

Peggy stopped her wailing and glanced at her younger sister in amazement, but as another strong contraction gripped her, she opened her mouth to scream.

‘Push, lass,’ Letty instructed.

Peggy gritted her teeth and grew redder in the face as now she tried to follow Letty’s instructions.

‘You’re doing well, but you’ve got to take your time, else you’ll be torn.’

‘I just want it out,’ Peggy squealed.

‘You’ve got to think of the baby,’ Letty said.

‘I don’t care about the baby,’ Peggy screamed. ‘I don’t care if it dies, I just want it all over with.’

Shocked, Mary, Letty and Myrtle exchanged horrified glances.

Myrtle looked down at her sister and said, ‘I won’t hear such talk, Peggy. This little baby deserves a life just like anyone else. Now do what you’re told and get a move on. Poor little thing must be fed up of being in there.’ She glanced across at Letty. ‘When should she push?’

‘When she feels a contraction coming. Here, lass, put your hand on her stomach, you can feel the muscles start to tighten. That’s when there’s a contraction coming.’

‘Yes, oh yes – ’ Myrtle’s face lit up – ‘I can feel it. Oh, isn’t it wonderful?’

Peggy groaned and wriggled. ‘Not from where I am. Oh – oh–’

‘Now push, Peggy,’ Myrtle instructed.

Peggy bent her chin to her chest, gripped her thighs with both her hands and strained to expel the baby from her. She grew red in the face.

‘The head’s come out,’ Myrtle shouted triumphantly. ‘Oh, I wonder what it is?’

‘It’ll not be a boy,’ Mary murmured, watching everything that was going on, but not required to do anything. ‘We’re a family of women.’ Then she added again, this time with a wistful note of longing, ‘It’ll not be a boy.’

Peggy drew in a deep breath and with one long, drawn-out growl pushed the baby into Myrtle’s waiting hands.

‘Oh, oh, look, Mam, it’s a boy. It
is
a boy.’

‘What?’ Mary moved to the bedside now and looked down at the tiny baby with something akin to wonderment on her face. ‘Oh, Peggy – it is a boy. How wonderful!’

Wryly Peggy said, ‘Boy or not, he’s still a little bastard.’

The baby lay still, not moving and making no sound.

Myrtle bit her lip. ‘Shouldn’t he be crying?’

Now Letty stood helplessly by the bed. ‘I don’t know what to do now, Mary. I’ve never had to go any further than actually seeing it born. There’s always been a midwife there by now.’

‘It says in the books,’ Myrtle said, ‘that if they don’t cry, you have to hold them up by the ankles and slap them to make them breathe. Peggy—’

‘Leave it,’ Peggy said weakly. ‘It’d be for the best.’

Myrtle looked to her mother for help, but Mary was just gazing down at the child as if turned to stone.

Gently, even though the child was still attached to the mother by the umbilical cord, Myrtle picked him up by his ankles and smacked him sharply on his tiny little bottom. When he did not respond she repeated the action. To both Mary and Letty, who were holding their breath, it seemed a miracle when the infant let out a thin, almost disgruntled wail.

‘Now what do we do?’ Mary said. Amazingly, both Mary and Letty seemed to be looking to Myrtle to take the lead.

‘I know you have to cut the cord and then the afterbirth has to come away,’ Myrtle said.

‘But how – what do we do?’

‘I – don’t know.’ Now even Myrtle was at the end of her book learning.

They stood helpless at the bedside, more urgently in need of qualified help than before.

Thirty-Four

Tom waited alone, pacing up and down in agitation. Even out here in the street, he could hear the poor girl’s screams coming from the back bedroom. ‘We’re going to lose ’em both at this rate,’ he muttered, anguished and feeling so helpless.

He heard the swishing of bicycle wheels and turned to see Joe careering down the street towards him. Tom raised his voice, not able to bear waiting even another minute. ‘Any luck?’

Joe applied the brakes and skidded to a halt at the side of Tom. Panting hard, he shook his head and his words came in gasps. ‘Doctor’s – out – too.’

Tom jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Reckon that poor lass is going through it.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t reckon her chances – or the bairn’s – at this rate.’

Just when the situation looked desperate and the two men were giving up hope of any help arriving in time to save Peggy and her child, they heard the sound of a tinkling bicycle bell. Pedalling up the road came a shadowy figure in a dark uniform. The woman braked sharply as she saw them standing by the side of the road. ‘Is this where there’s a baby coming?’

‘Aye, it is, Nurse, and you’d best hurry. Lass is obviously in trouble.’

Now they all heard a piercing scream that rent the night air and then an unexpected and ominous silence.

‘Oh my God,’ Tom muttered, his face bleak.

The nurse leaned her bicycle against the wall, unclipped her bag and hurried inside. Nurse Catchpole was a middle-aged woman, with a calm and reassuring manner, and yet she wouldn’t stand any nonsense. She’d heard the screaming when she’d arrived and as she climbed the stairs and walked into the bedroom, she was opening her mouth to say, ‘Now, you can stop that noise. You’re not the first to have a baby and you won’t be the last.’

But in the silence three pairs of frightened eyes filled with relief when they saw who had entered the room. Only the young mother lay with her head turned away, quiet and still now.

‘Mrs Bradshaw – fancy seeing you here,’ Nurse Catchpole said with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Have you delivered Baby?’

Letty moved out of the way as the midwife took her place at the side of the bed.

‘No, actually, it was this young lass, here. The bairn wasn’t breathing, but Myrtle picked him up and give him a couple of smacks and he cried.’

Nurse Catchpole glanced across the bed at Myrtle. ‘Well done, my dear. You’ve probably saved the little man’s life.’

‘She needn’t have bothered,’ Peggy muttered morosely.

‘Now, now, Mother, we won’t have any of that talk,’ the midwife said briskly and turned her attention to cutting the cord and encouraging Peggy to cough to expel the afterbirth. She wrapped the child in a towel and handed him to his mother, but Peggy turned her head away, refusing to take him or even to look at him.

‘Here, let me,’ Myrtle said. ‘Please.’

With a sigh, not liking the way the baby’s mother was behaving, Nurse Catchpole had no choice – for the moment – to do anything but hand the baby boy to his young aunt. Then she turned to Mary and Letty. ‘Now downstairs with you and bring me plenty of hot water and clean towels.’

More than a little thankful, both women left the room, knowing that both Peggy and the baby were in safe hands.

‘Normally,’ Nurse Catchpole said quietly, when the two women had gone, ‘I’d ask the grandmother to stay, but it seems you’re the capable one, my dear. Now, when I’ve washed Mother, I’ll show you how to bath Baby. Have you any clothes for him? What’s his name, by the way?’

‘I don’t know.’ Myrtle glanced at Peggy, but the girl, now freed from the terrible racking pain, was lying with her eyes closed, deliberately taking no part in the proceedings.

Nurse Catchpole raised her eyebrows and asked no more questions.

When Peggy had been attended to, the afterbirth having come away cleanly, and she was washed and lying sleepily in clean sheets, the nurse bathed the baby tenderly, giving Myrtle clear instructions how to hold him.

‘Tiny babies need to be kept warm – they don’t generate their own heat for some weeks.’

Myrtle nodded. ‘I read that.’

Nurse Catchpole’s eyes twinkled. ‘You seem to have done a lot of reading, my dear.

Was it because you sister was expecting?’

‘Partly, but I do human biology at school.’ She wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully. ‘I think it’s my favourite subject. That and English literature. I love reading.’

‘Well, both those subjects would be useful if you wanted to become a nurse.’

‘Do you think I could?’

‘It’s a vocation, Myrtle. You have to really want to do it. It’s hard work – but very rewarding.’

‘I’d never thought about nursing,’ Myrtle said, taking the tiny baby, now washed and wrapped warmly in little baby clothes and a shawl which Peggy had knitted during her lonely hours in the front room. Myrtle held the baby gently, feeling the new life moving against her. ‘They all think I should try for university.’

‘No reason why not. With a degree you’d be certain to get into nurse’s training.’

Myrtle was gazing down at her nephew in wonderment, a tender smile on her mouth. The midwife watched her for a moment, wishing that the infant’s mother would take such a loving interest in her newborn baby.

‘Now, if you’re ready, we can let the grandmother come back. Is there anyone else? What about the father? Is he – here?’ Sarah Catchpole hesitated. There were so many times nowadays when the father was away fighting the war, or had been wounded or even killed. The nurse had to be very careful how she phrased her questions these days.

Myrtle raised her head slowly. There was no point in trying to deceive the nurse; she’d find out soon enough.

‘There is no father.’ Myrtle gave a wry smile. ‘Well, of course there is. Somewhere. What I mean is – ’ she took a deep breath – ‘my sister isn’t married.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Sarah’s tone was full of understanding. Sadly she recognized the circumstances only too well. Just recently, she seemed to have been delivering more illegitimate babies into the world than legitimate ones. She blamed the war. It had always happened, of course, and always would, but just now the number of unmarried mothers had definitely increased. Now she understood Peggy’s reaction to her child. No doubt the poor girl had suffered untold accusations from her family.

‘So,’ Sarah went on in her matter-of-fact manner, ‘who else is there downstairs?’

‘Mam’ll come up and,’ Myrtle added, ‘Mrs Bradshaw.’ They exchanged a smile, but the amusement died as Myrtle went on. ‘But I don’t think my gran or my other sister, Rose, will take any notice of the baby. They haven’t been speaking to Peggy since they found out. They’ve made her live in the front room or up here in her bedroom. It’s my gran’s house, you see. She rules the roost. We’re here on sufferance.’

‘Where’s your father?’

‘He died when I was a baby. He was wounded in the Great War and we’ve always lived with Mam’s mother.’

The midwife sighed. The complications in this household were worse than she had thought. Far worse.

‘I’ll come back in a little while to get him to the breast.’ Sarah smiled down at Myrtle. ‘I can see the little chap is in good hands.’

‘He’s so tiny,’ Myrtle said. ‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’

‘He’s fine – thanks to you. If he’d been left much longer not breathing, we might have had trouble. You did very well, dear.’

Myrtle blushed a little and felt a glow of pride. It was the very first time she’d ever been praised for doing something useful. The family encouraged her with her studies, but never let her do anything practical. For the first time Myrtle felt needed and it was a lovely feeling.

As the nurse put on her coat and picked up her bag, she said, ‘I’ll see the others as I go out. Tell them they can come up now – if they want to.’ She glanced at Peggy. ‘Let her sleep. She’s had a difficult time. Hopefully, she’ll feel differently when she wakes up.’

Then nurse ran lightly down the stairs and into the living room. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. An elderly woman sat in her chair near the range, reading a newspaper. At the table, a girl – presumably the other sister of whom Myrtle had spoken – also sat reading. Only Mary and Letty Bradshaw looked at her and got slowly to their feet.

‘Are they – all right?’ Mary asked tentatively.

‘They’re both fine. She has a fine, healthy baby boy.’