The Midwives of Lark Lane

by Pam Howes

  ‘Of course I will, Debs. I’m really pleased for you both.’

  ‘That will be great,’ Debbie said. ‘We love what Johnny’s done to your mam’s place, the extension and everything. It’s fabulous. We’d like to do that too eventually. I love living on this street and it would be nice to have a bit more space with this little fella coming soon.’

  Cathy grinned. ‘Or little lady.’

  Debbie grimaced. ‘I’d love a girl, but knowing my luck!’

  Five

  June 1963

  Jack fidgeted uncomfortably as the white van bumped and rocked its way over the rutted surface of the diverted road. He stared at Andy, sitting on the opposite bench seat. His fellow prisoner didn’t meet his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed to the floor. He wondered why. For the time he’d shared a cell with the tall, thick-set Glaswegian, Jack had felt they had got along reasonably well. Although half the time he struggled to understand what the bloke was saying. He spoke fast in his strong accent and every sentence was peppered with swearwords. Still, anything was better than the dense Scouser he’d shared with when he was first sentenced.

  Today, Friday, was the long-awaited transfer from Walton Gaol to Armley Gaol in Leeds and he and Andy were being transferred together. Jack wasn’t bothered about being moved away from his native Liverpool as no one ever came to visit him anyway. He wondered if he and Andy would share a cell in the new place; highly unlikely, seeing as not much ever went in his favour. Knowing his luck, he’d no doubt get lumbered with some psycho, sheep-shagging, Yorkshire pillock.

  He glanced at the prison officer he was handcuffed to. The man sat ramrod-straight beside him. He was a young fellow, well, younger than him at any rate; tall, but of slight build. If they’d been alone Jack knew he could have overpowered him. But they weren’t alone. Andy’s accompanying officer was built like a brick house and the officer driving the van was of a similar build.

  God, he could murder a cigarette and no doubt Andy felt the same. He had that tetchy air about him that Jack recognised as him needing a fag time. Andy slowly raised his eyes to Jack’s and half-smiled. Jack smiled back. He had fags with him, but they were stashed away in a small rucksack with the rest of his meagre belongings that had been placed out of his reach.

  Andy began to whistle and tap his feet slowly as the van veered across to the right-hand side of the road and came to a sudden and unexpected stop. Jack fell sideways against his officer and was immediately pushed back into a sitting position.

  The officer handcuffed to Andy shouted through to the driver, ‘What the hell is going on? Why have you stopped? Shut the fuck up,’ he snarled at Andy as his whistling became louder.

  Jack recognised the tune and smirked as Andy burst into Elvis Presley’s ‘It’s Now or Never’ at the top of his voice, almost drowning out the sound of the loud gunshot that reverberated through the van. Andy sang louder still, adding his own words to the song, ‘It’s now or never, come rescue me,’ throwing back his head as he emphasised the word rescue, rolling his r’s.

  ‘Shit, what the fuck was that?’ The officer peered through the small window into the front of the van, where the driver was slumped over the wheel; his brains were splattered across the dashboard and what was left of the windscreen.

  Jack saw the look of horror in the officer’s eyes as the van’s back doors were flung wide open and pandemonium broke out.

  ‘Boys, what took you so long?’ Andy called gleefully as two men clambered into the van, the tallest of the pair waving a shotgun at the white-faced officers, the second man swinging a bunch of keys from an index finger. Both wore face-distorting stocking masks and had black woollen hats pulled low, covering their hair.

  Jack shrank back against the seat, feeling his bowels turn to liquid. He hoped he wouldn’t shit himself. He couldn’t afford to look a prat in front of these men, who were obviously hardened criminals. If they’d shot the other officers, he was certain they’d have no qualms about shooting him too in case he blabbed. Andy was doing time for armed robbery; these two were probably the partners in crime who had reportedly got away and had been lying low for a few years.

  The taller man poked Andy’s officer in the ribs with the gun and spoke, his accent as thick as Andy’s. ‘Which key for the cuffs?’

  The officer pointed and Andy was freed. The man then ordered his officer to lie face-down on the bench seat and handcuffed his spare wrist to his other behind his back as Andy lumbered to his feet.

  Then the man freed Jack and ordered his officer, who Jack could feel trembling by his side, to lie face-down too. He handcuffed him and then yanked Jack to his feet, steadying him as he wobbled.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Andy yelled as Jack reached for his rucksack.

  They stumbled out of the van and the man with the keys locked it. Jack could see a large black car parked a few yards up the road and felt himself being dragged along towards it by Andy. He struggled to keep upright, his bad leg giving way.

  Andy turned to yell at the man with the shotgun, who was busy blasting through each van tyre. ‘Come on; let’s get out of here before some fucker comes to see what all the noise is about.’ The man finished his job and legged it towards them.

  ‘Well done, lads. That diversion worked perfectly.’ Andy slapped shoulders all round. He turned to Jack who had been bundled into the car alongside him. ‘Right, you’ve got two choices, Jackie boy,’ he began.

  Jack felt sick. This was it; they were giving him the choice of death now, or later. The shorter man fired up the engine and the car shot forward, jerking Jack almost out of his seat.

  Andy pulled him back and continued. ‘You can come up to Scotland with us, or make your own way to freedom. We can drop you off shortly, if that’s what you choose.’

  Stunned by the events of the last few minutes, Jack sat back and closed his eyes, tasting freedom. He didn’t have a clue where they were, but he’d find out soon enough. All the years he’d been stuck in Walton he’d dreamed of escape and what he’d do to that little bitch Cathy if their paths ever crossed again, never once believing that his freedom was merely weeks away. He didn’t need to think. He’d do his own thing, make his way back to Liverpool and look for her.

  Andy and his cronies dropped him off, having made him promise to keep his trap shut if he ever got picked up. With twenty Woodbines, a box of matches and the gift of a roll of notes in his pocket totalling forty quid, the world was his oyster. The money would keep him in food, beer and fags, for a good while anyway. All he had to do was go into hiding for a week or two while his hair and facial hair grew and the initial search for him and Andy had quietened down. The thought of living rough didn’t faze him. He’d already done it – he’d had no choice when Alice chucked him out of their home – and anything was better than prison life.

  He’d need a change of clothes soon enough, so a quick eyeballing of washing lines was a must, and an eye out for a disused shed on an allotment to provide him with shelter. Andy’s mates had told him he that wasn’t too far from the city of York, so if he could locate the railway line that ran from York to Liverpool or even Manchester, there was bound to be an allotment or two running close to the tracks. In his experience, many allotments were situated near railways. He lit a cigarette, hoisted his rucksack onto his shoulder and set off at as brisk a trot as his wooden foot would allow.

  Cathy drank the last mouthful of tea, rinsed her mug at the kitchen sink and placed it on the draining board. She smoothed her pale blue cotton nurse’s dress down and put on her navy coat, shoving a small carrot from the vegetable basket into her pocket. She and Lucy were to stay at her mam’s this weekend to give Granny a bit of a break. She could hear the sound of voices on the stairs and popped her head around the kitchen door.

  ‘Shh,’ she whispered as her teenage sisters Sandra and Rosie burst into the back sitting room. ‘Why are you two up so early on a Sunday?’ She shook her head. Typical. It took forever to get them moving on a school day.


  ‘We’re going to Seffy Park today,’ Sandra announced, looping a strand of hair behind her ears. ‘Johnny says he’ll treat us to ice-creams if we help Mam with the chores this morning.’

  Cathy smiled. Her sisters were growing up to be pretty girls with their long dark hair, big blue eyes and slender figures. ‘Well you won’t be going until after dinner,’ she said. ‘It’s only half past six. Go back to bed and don’t wake Roddy and Lucy up. Let Mam and Johnny have a lie-in. They deserve it. Right, I’m off to work. It’s my early shift today and I have to walk part of the way because it’s too early for the bus.’ She peered out of the window at the start of a bright day. ‘Still, at least it’s not raining. Enjoy your afternoon out.’ She gave them both a hug, picked up her bag and set off to walk into the city.

  It was a very pleasant morning and she waved at Sandra’s friend Ben as he wobbled on his bicycle down Lark Lane, heavy bag, loaded with Sunday papers, slung over his shoulder. Charlie the milkman, who was delivering pints to nearby houses, also waved to her. His black-and-white horse neighed and flicked his tail as Cathy stroked his velvety nose. He nudged her pocket and Cathy laughed and gave him the carrot. ‘How did you know?’ she said. ‘You’re such a clever boy, Captain.’

  ‘Ah, you spoil him.’ Charlie grinned. ‘He’s got used to you having a surprise in your pocket for him now. Off to save a life or two, then?’ he said as he lifted a crate of empties back on to the cart.

  ‘Let’s hope it’s not that sort of day, Charlie. I’m on maternity and it’s usually quite happy on there. More celebrations than sadness, although we do get the odd time…’ She tailed off, thinking back to last week’s stillbirth and the heartbroken young parents. Those times were just so hard to deal with.

  Charlie nodded. ‘Well enjoy it, whatever the day brings. We’ll see you again.’ Whistling, he led Captain away, the milk cart trundling along behind, bottles jingling in their crates.

  Cathy strolled along swinging her bag, enjoying the peace and quiet before everyone got up, some to attend early-morning church services, others to watch amateur football matches on the recreation ground. Halfway into the centre she stopped at a bus stop where several members of Liverpool Royal staff were waiting for the first bus of the morning. She exchanged pleasantries with a couple of ward cleaners and kitchen staff who she’d known since she’d first started working at the hospital.

  ‘Morning, chuck. ’ow’s yer mam and Johnny doing?’ Doris, one of the cleaners, asked.

  ‘Oh, she’s fine, thank you,’ Cathy replied. ‘They’re very happy.’

  ‘Nothing less than she deserves after everything that bugger Jack Dawson put ’er through.’

  ‘Aye,’ Queenie, one of the kitchen staff piped up. ‘Third time lucky for Alice, bless her.’

  Cathy smiled and thanked them. She wondered if Jack knew her mam had remarried and that his three children now had a wonderful stepfather. Maybe the prison authorities had told him. No one else would bother, she was sure. He’d know he was divorced; surely he’d had to sign the papers. Hopefully, when the time came for his release he’d have no need at all to come anywhere near Aigburth and the family. He’d never wanted to know the kids when he lived with them, so knowing he was off the hook now, he would hopefully scarper to somewhere far, far away. Cathy held on to that pleasing thought as she boarded the bus and by the time it pulled up outside the hospital gates she’d put all thoughts of Jack out of her mind.

  She hurried up the corridor to the lifts that would take her up to Maternity Ward B. Ellie and Karen were on early duty today as well, and Jean was just coming off a night shift. She was in the middle of the handover as Cathy fastened her apron and clipped her white cap to her pinned-up hair. She fixed her fob watch to the front of her apron and proudly stretched the red elasticated belt around her waist. Red was the colour of a second-year midwifery student. She went into Sister’s office, where staff midwife Jean was going through the patient list with Karen and Ellie and Sister Mason, Cathy’s favourite sister, who had also just come on duty.

  ‘It was total chaos last night,’ Jean announced. ‘We didn’t even get a break. Two bouncing baby boys delivered within an hour of each other. Both they and mums are doing well. We also had a little pre-termer of twenty-six weeks. She survived for a couple of hours but sadly her lungs were underdeveloped and she didn’t make it. Mum’s in a private side room and her hubby has stayed with her. They’re only youngsters. Poor kids, such a sad time for them. We’ll probably discharge her tomorrow when she’s had a good rest. It will only cause her further distress to stay in here with all the babies around her. Doctor will be on the ward to check her over later. We’ve a couple of labours on the go at the moment – one is five centimetres and the other is almost fully dilated, so she’s ready to go into delivery.’

  Jean took a deep breath. ‘And that, my dears, is where I’m going to love you and leave you. I’m starving as well as shattered. Breakfast in the staff canteen and then bed for me. You’ll all be finished by the time I’m back in tonight, but I’ll catch up in the morning. My last shift tonight for a few weeks; two days off and then earlies next. Thank the Lord.’

  ‘See you tomorrow, Jean,’ they chorused as the breakfast wagon was trundled into the ward by Joe Banks, one of the kitchen porters.

  ‘Breakfast and a brew and then we’ll get stuck in. No visit from Matron today. I love Sundays for that very reason,’ Sister Mason said, a twinkle in her eye. ‘But you didn’t hear me say that!’

  Alice lay back on the grass and watched Johnny playing rounders with Rodney, Lucy and Rosie. Sandra had disappeared, saying she was going to the ladies’ in the Palm House café. More likely to eye up the lads that hung around the Palm House on a Sunday afternoon, Alice thought, just like Cathy and her friend Debs had done a few years back. The kids were growing up fast, and Johnny was so good with them. Nothing was too much trouble.

  She couldn’t believe her luck that she’d met such a loving and kind man as Johnny Harrison and that not only did he want her but he was also willing to take on her family too. Little Lucy adored him – he was a perfect grandpa to her and a great father to her younger ones too. Before they’d married, Johnny had confessed to Alice that he was unable to father any children due to problems caused by mumps as a child. He’d told her that to have a ready-made family was just the job for him and he would always treat her children as his own.

  After being widowed so young and then marrying that waste of time Jack Dawson, Alice was in seventh heaven with her new man and had never felt so loved and lucky in her life. Rosie and Rodney now called Johnny Dad, and she felt safe with him. It was a good place to be in after the trauma of the last few years.

  Cathy wrapped the red-faced baby boy in a white sheet and handed him to Sally, his exhausted but beaming mother. ‘Well done. He’s a little belter.’ The baby had a mop of dark hair and he opened his big blue eyes and glared at the young girl who was gazing proudly down at her swaddled bundle. Cathy always felt a little twinge of sadness for herself when she delivered a baby, mixed with joy for the new parents. That feeling would probably never go away.

  ‘He looks a bit cross,’ Sally said, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  Ellie handed her a tissue and smiled. ‘He was getting a bit too comfortable in there,’ she said. ‘He’s just objecting to being disturbed.’

  ‘Two weeks overdue.’ Sally sighed. ‘Thought he’d never come. Wait until your daddy sees you. He’ll be that proud, he’ll be signing you up for Everton before you can walk.’ She gave a yell and screwed up her face. ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Have we got a name?’ Cathy asked, squeezing her hand to distract her from the pain as Ellie took charge of delivering the placenta.

  ‘We have,’ Sally gasped, squeezing back. ‘We chose Adam, after Adam Faith, for a boy. So he’s being called Adam and David, after my dad.’ Her lips trembled. ‘Such a shame he’ll never know him. Dad was killed in the war not long aft
er he married Mam.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be watching over you and will be very proud,’ Cathy said, feeling choked as she thought about her own dad and how proud he would be of Lucy. She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled. ‘Right, I’ll go and ring your mother-in-law and then she can get word to your husband. Congratulations, Sally. You did really well.’

  Cathy and Ellie queued up in the staff canteen for their roast dinners. Sunday was always traditional fare, with the best Yorkshire puddings in Liverpool. As Mavis the server loaded their plates with slices of beef Cathy’s mouth watered with anticipation. They were late today; it was almost two o’clock. Mavis offered them two puddings each. ‘You might as well,’ she said. ‘You’re probably the last pair to come down for your dinner.’

  Cathy nodded her thanks and helped herself to vegetables and gravy. She and Ellie sat at a table in the window that overlooked the back of the nurses’ home. Cathy looked across and half-smiled. The window directly opposite had been her room when she’d started her training and lived on the premises. It was the room she’d smuggled Gianni into by suggesting he climb onto the dustbins beneath. It was that secret night of passion that had led to Lucy’s conception. She felt her cheeks heating as she speared a roast potato and sliced it in two.

  Ellie raised an eyebrow as she followed Cathy’s gaze and noted her pink cheeks. She grinned. ‘I can read you like a book,’ she said. ‘Bet no one else has smuggled a boyfriend in that way.’