by Ellie Dean
She nodded as another contraction made her groan.
‘Try not to push too hard this time,’ Julie said calmly. ‘Keep panting and let your body do the work. When this contraction is finished, I’ll roll you over. All right?’
Anne had the look of utter concentration on her face that was common to all women about to give birth, and Julie waited for the contraction to ebb, then gently but firmly rolled her onto her side towards the beam.
‘It’s hurting my leg,’ Anne moaned as the torchlight jiggled in her mother’s nervous hands.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Julie, steadying the other woman’s hand on the torch. ‘But there’s no other way of getting your baby out.’ She quickly took the rubber sheet out of her bag and placed it beneath the girl before checking again on the baby’s progress. ‘The head is crowned, so on the next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can.’
Anne groaned and grunted as Julie gently eased the head from the birth canal and cupped it in her hands. ‘Good girl,’ she soothed. ‘Now push when you’re ready and your baby will be born.’
Anne gathered her strength and pushed long and hard. Julie eased the tiny shoulders out and waited. Anne gave one last determined push and the baby slithered into Julie’s hands. ‘That’s it, well done,’ she breathed. ‘You have a lovely baby girl.’
‘Let me see.’
‘In a minute, I just need to check that all’s well.’
‘She’s lovely, Anne,’ breathed her mother. ‘Little Rose Margaret is quite, quite perfect.’
‘Is it a girl, you say?’ shouted the excited Irishman.
‘It certainly is,’ shouted his wife.
‘Please hold the torch steady,’ said Julie urgently. ‘I need to see what I’m doing.’ She cleared the tiny mouth and nose and held the baby up by her feet to free any excess mucus before swiftly wrapping her in the clean towel and giving her chest a rub. She was breathing, but not easily, and there was a tinge of blue round her mouth which made Julie suspect her heart wasn’t coping very well.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Anne sharply. ‘Why isn’t she crying? I thought all newborns cried.’
‘She’s having some trouble getting her breath,’ Julie replied calmly as she dealt with the umbilical cord. ‘You can cuddle her for a minute, Anne, but she really needs to be taken to hospital where she can be treated away from all this dust.’
‘She’s not going to die, is she?’ Tears sparked in the torchlight and ran down Anne’s face as she took the tiny bundle into her arms.
‘Not if we get her help quickly,’ Julie said.
‘But how can we get her out of here?’ Anne’s mother asked tremulously.
‘I’ve had an idea.’ Julie grabbed the tin bowl, threw out the water and lined it with the rest of the clean towels. Picking up the string bag which was still tied to the rope dangling from the hole, she opened it out and wedged the bowl back inside.
Taking the torch from Anne’s mother, she shone it on the Irishman who was leaning precariously above the hole. ‘The baby needs to go to hospital,’ she called up to him, ‘so I’m going to put her in this bowl, and when I tell you, I need you to pull slowly and gently on the rope until you have her safely in your hands.’
‘Bejesus,’ he muttered. ‘By all the saints . . .’ He crossed himself and closed his eyes as he nodded.
Julie gave the torch back to the other woman and turned to the sobbing Anne. ‘You’ll see her later,’ she said softly as she took the baby from her arms and placed her in the cocoon of towels. She looked so tiny and vulnerable in that big tin bowl. Julie didn’t dare think what might happen if the knots slipped, but it was the only way to get her out of here and into an oxygen tent.
‘Pull slowly and don’t jerk the rope,’ she called up to the very anxious grandfather.
Julie and Anne’s mother stood with their hands outstretched beneath the precious, swaying cargo, ready to catch her if she fell. Slowly and precariously, the bag was drawn towards the hole. Their relief was immense as the Irishman grasped the bowl and disappeared from view.
‘Thank God for my Jim’s safe hands,’ breathed Anne’s mother as she collapsed onto the rubble-strewn floor. ‘And thank you, Julie, for everything you’ve done tonight. I never could have managed alone, and that’s a fact.’
Julie smiled and took her trembling hand. ‘I get the feeling you could have managed,’ she said softly. ‘After all, you got yourself down here without any help, didn’t you?’
The little woman gave her a shaky smile. ‘The name’s Peggy, by the way. Peggy Reilly, and if there’s anything I can ever do for you, Julie, then you only have to ask.’
Julie stared at her in amazement and wondered if she really meant it, but even if she did, now was not the time to mention her need for accommodation. The baby might not make it, and Anne’s leg looked a mess. The Reilly family had enough to contend with.
Chapter Nine
‘IT’S ALL RIGHT, darling,’ crooned Peggy. ‘You’ll see your baby soon enough, and she’s in the best possible place – really she is.’
‘But I should be with her,’ sobbed Anne.
Peggy understood all too well how frightened Anne must be, for she too was in a turmoil of dread for that tiny wee scrap. She murmured soothing nothings as she held her distraught daughter’s hand and Julie helped deliver the afterbirth. Then Peggy watched silently as the young nurse checked on the injury to Anne’s leg. It looked nasty, and Peggy suspected the crushing blow of the falling beam must have broken the bones badly.
‘At least she’s not bleeding,’ she said as Julie crawled back to her side.
‘It’s probably because the beam is acting as a tourniquet,’ Julie replied quietly, her gaze fixed determinedly on the torchlight. ‘The rescue crew will have to be very careful when they lift it away.’
Peggy could just imagine what might happen and shivered. ‘We’re all in a bit of a mess, aren’t we?’ she said with forced cheerfulness. The situation was bad enough without being gloomy about it.
Julie looked beyond the torchlight into the darkness that surrounded them and shivered. ‘You could say that, Peggy,’ she muttered. ‘How long do you think the rescue crew will be?’
Peggy realised the girl must be suffering from claustrophobia and took her hand. ‘They won’t be long – not with Jim and Ron badgering them.’ She squeezed Julie’s fingers. ‘Try to keep focussed on the light, dear,’ she said, ‘and keep talking. It will help.’
‘I know,’ Julie replied shakily, ‘but it’s so dark, and this space is so small and—’
‘Rose Margaret will be all right, won’t she?’ Peggy interrupted, in an effort to get the girl’s attention away from their surroundings.
‘I hope so, Peggy. She’s a good size, and Anne is obviously healthy. It was quite a quick birth, and I expect the dusty atmosphere was making it difficult for her to breathe.’ Julie moved to Anne, who had fallen into an exhausted but restless sleep. Having checked her pulse and her temperature, she covered her with the coat. ‘She’s fine,’ she reassured Peggy. ‘Sleep’s the best thing for her at the moment.’
Peggy nodded and shifted her legs, which were getting cramped.
Julie gasped as the torchlight beam fell over Peggy’s feet. ‘Peggy, where are your shoes? Your feet have been cut to ribbons!’
‘They do hurt a bit,’ she admitted with a grimace, ‘but what with Anne and everything, I hadn’t noticed until now.’
Julie opened her bag and cleaned the deep cuts and angry abrasions with cotton wool soaked in Dettol, and then swiftly began to bandage both feet. ‘I used to be amazed at how far a mother would go when her child was in danger,’ she murmured, ‘but since I’ve had William, I know just how strong that urge to protect can be.’
Peggy glanced at the capable hands which were winding the bandage round her sore feet. There was no sign of a wedding ring, but that meant nothing. ‘Why don’t you tell me about William,’ she said softly.
As Ju
lie hesitantly told her about her young sister and the loss of her parents, Peggy’s heart went out to her. It was clear she still had nightmares about the way in which her parents had died, and it must be agony for her to be trapped down here, but throughout her sad tale, there was the ray of light that was William.
‘But why bring him to Cliffehaven? Surely you realised we’re right in bomb alley here?’
Julie hesitated and twisted her fingers in her lap. ‘I came to live with my sister, Eileen. She’s the only relative we have now until our brothers come home.’ She paused again, clearly reluctant to continue. ‘But there isn’t really any room in her flat and she’s got a very important job at the council offices which means she . . .’
Peggy frowned. ‘Is your sister Eileen Harris?’
Julie nodded. ‘Do you know her?’
Peggy certainly did, but she wasn’t about to voice her opinion of the woman to Julie. ‘We’ve met a few times,’ she said instead. ‘So, Julie, have you managed to find somewhere else to live?’
‘Kath Carter’s got me a temporary place at the Town Hall,’ she replied quickly. ‘We’ll be fine there.’
‘I’m not having you and William living there,’ said Peggy firmly. ‘You’ll come to me where you can both be looked after properly. I don’t know what Kath was thinking about. She knows I’d never turn anyone down who really needed a place.’
Anne stirred from her fretful doze and gave a weak smile. ‘I knew you’d change your mind, Mum. Didn’t I tell you?’
‘That’s as maybe,’ said Peggy. ‘But Julie’s a special case. I couldn’t possibly leave her at the Town Hall after all she’s done for us.’
‘But you have so many other things to worry about,’ said Julie. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,’ Peggy replied stoutly. ‘And you’re not to worry about young William. There are enough of us at Beach View to help look after him while you’re at work.’
Julie grasped her hand, the unshed tears gleaming in the torchlight. ‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘Thank you ever so much, Peggy. You can have absolutely no idea how much this means to me.’
Peggy looked into that sweet, dirty little face and thought she knew all too well how much it had meant. Of course there had been room for her and the baby in Eileen’s flat. But Eileen Harris had always been a cold-hearted cow, and after what she’d done to poor Rosie Braithwaite, there had been little sympathy for her amongst those in the know. The whole thing had been hushed up, of course, and it had been expected that Eileen would leave Cliffehaven out of shame. Yet she’d brazened it out and carried on as if nothing had happened at all – and now she’d got her hooks into poor, deluded George Unwin, who was head of the Town Council and old enough to know better.
Peggy took a grim satisfaction in the knowledge that Eileen would not be at all happy to learn that Julie would be living at Beach View from now on.
‘The heavy lifting crew is here,’ shouted Jim a while later. ‘We’re sending down blankets and tin hats, so cover yourselves as best you can.’
Julie and Peggy covered Anne and huddled close to her beneath the blankets as the sound of men’s voices and whining machinery carried down to them. ‘It’s all right,’ soothed Peggy. ‘Jim and Ron will get us out soon.’
Julie kept her grip tight on her precious medical bag and closed her eyes as she battled with the rising panic. She could hear the timbers creak and the concrete and bricks slide and rattle above her – could taste the dust and soot that sifted down, could feel the chill of this tiny cavern seep into her bones. She flung back the blanket and switched the torch on, desperate to banish that encroaching, stifling blackness, but the air was full of choking dust and she hastily drew the blanket back over her head and reached for Peggy’s hand.
The three of them waited for what felt like a lifetime as the men worked above them to make the hole bigger and the pile of rubble safe. They could hear the dog barking as the men shouted to one another above the roar of machinery, and Ron and Jim called down with progress reports. Then wonderful light filled their prison and they blinked against it as they dared peek over the blankets. Spotlights had been set up, and a ladder was slowly being lowered.
Julie scrambled over and made sure it was fixed onto a firm piece of floor, and then was almost knocked down by the dog which hurtled down the rungs and flung itself at Peggy and Anne.
Julie and Peggy made a grab for the animal and managed to hold it by the collar. ‘Someone get Harvey,’ shouted Peggy. ‘He’s about to bring the whole shooting match down on our heads and we can’t hold him for long.’
The sturdy figure of Ron descended the ladder and grabbed the dog’s collar. ‘Sit and stay,’ he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. The dog whined and slumped down, nose on paws, ears and eyebrows twitching with concern.
Ron crawled across the narrow space and squatted beside them. ‘To be sure, there’s not enough room for the men to work easily down here,’ he muttered to Peggy. ‘You and young Julie must go up the ladder now with me.’
‘I’m not leaving Anne,’ said Peggy, gripping her daughter’s hand.
‘We don’t have time to argue,’ said Ron. ‘You will do as I say for once, Peggy Reilly – you too, girl,’ he added to Julie.
‘Anne’s my patient and I have to stay with her,’ said Julie.
‘You’ve done enough,’ said Ron. ‘Young Dr Sayers can manage from now on.’ He patted Anne’s hand and wrestled Peggy away. ‘Get up that ladder, woman,’ he growled. ‘Jim’s waiting for you.’
Julie remained at Anne’s side while Ron chivvied a protesting Peggy up the ladder, the squirming dog held firmly beneath his meaty arm. Willing hands reached to help them the last few steps, and then they were gone.
‘Julie, get up here now,’ ordered Ron moments later.
‘You’d better go, Julie,’ said Anne. ‘I’ll be all right, really.’
Julie shook her head. She would have liked nothing better than to be in the fresh air again, but now that light was flooding into their prison her fears had been vanquished. ‘We’ll both be all right,’ she murmured, taking Anne’s hand and feeling the thready pulse as two men began to climb down. ‘The men will soon have us free.’
A tall, thin man in a heavy tweed coat reached the bottom of the ladder, surveyed his surroundings, adjusted his tin hat and the big black bag he held, then began to crawl towards them. ‘Good morning, ladies,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Quite a cosy place you have here.’ He squatted beside them and held out his hand to Julie. ‘Michael Sayers,’ he said with a broad smile.
His handshake was as warm and firm as his father’s had been and it imbued her with courage and determination. ‘Julie Harris,’ she replied and smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Michael Sayers examined Anne’s leg as the other two men began to shore up the walls and ceiling of their prison. He asked Anne how she was feeling and listened attentively as Julie gave a quick résumé of the birth.
‘Your baby is doing very well,’ he reassured Anne. ‘She’s in the special baby unit for now, but I expect her to make a full recovery. Now, I’m going to give you an injection so that these nice men can move that horrid old beam off your leg without it hurting too much.’
He swiftly filled a syringe and injected Anne’s thigh. Once he was satisfied that the local anaesthetic had taken effect, he turned back to Julie. ‘I’ll need you to be quick off the mark once they move that beam,’ he said quietly, his dark eyes regarding her solemnly. ‘We’ll need to tourniquet that leg, or she’ll bleed to death.’
Julie nodded as he wound a length of rubber round Anne’s thigh and left it loose. The beam had come down across Anne’s lower leg and, in the bright lights, Julie could see the gleam of shattered bone beneath it. Her own pulse began to race as she realised Anne would be lucky to survive this without losing her leg, but she made sure none of her thoughts showed in her expression.
The men had finished shoring up the walls
and ceiling now and had crawled to Anne’s side. ‘We daren’t cut the beam,’ said one of them. ‘So we’ll have to lift it. Be ready to pull her out the minute we give the shout.’
Julie and Michael exchanged worried glances. ‘We’ll need more help,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t tighten the tourniquet and lift her out at the same time.’
‘Ron,’ shouted Michael. ‘We need you down here.’
Ron came sliding down the ladder like an old sea dog and scrambled towards them, his face lined and ashen with worry. ‘I’ll take her top half, you do the other end,’ he muttered once Michael had explained the situation.
The three of them tensed, poised to play their part as the two burly rescuers grasped the beam. As their straining began to shift it there was an ominous creaking overhead and smaller pieces of debris began to rain down. Everyone froze.
‘It’s the only way,’ rasped the man in charge. ‘On my count of three, lift and then it’s every man for himself.’
Julie reached for the rubber tubing, her hand slick with sweat as the man counted.
‘One, two, three.’ With a mighty groan they lifted the beam.
Blood shot from Anne’s injury like a fountain and Julie tightened the tourniquet then scrambled back as Ron and Michael lifted her away. The two men slowly and carefully replaced the beam, aware that the roof was creaking and groaning and threatening to bury them all.
There was an ominous rumble overhead and the walls of the small cavern began to shift.
Michael had just finished tightly bandaging Anne’s shattered leg when the rumble became more ominous and the walls of the cavern began to slide inwards.
Ron grabbed her, almost threw her over his shoulder and raced up the ladder, Julie and the others following swiftly.
Hands reached out to them, dragging them into the dawn and virtually carrying them down the steep side of the trembling mound. More willing hands took Anne, and within moments she and Peggy were being whisked away in an ambulance for the hospital.