Of Different Times

by Agnes Kirkwood

  ‘You bet’.

  As I walked up the path I looked up and there was Maureen looking out of the attic window smiling with her thumb pointing up. I smiled and waved back, then rang the bell. As the door opened I turned round and saw two figures waving from inside the van, then it drove away. When the door closed I walked in and made my way to the bottom of the back staircase. Maureen was on her way down grinning.

  ‘Come on, we’re going out for a fag and you can tell me every little detail what happened today.’

  Although I was still very homesick and missed everyone, I felt more content. The only thing that kept me going was waiting for Saturdays to come. I got all the news of home, from mum and Stan, kept me up to date with what was going on when he went out with my brother William and Winnie. He said William really missed me and sends his love. I knew my brother more than anybody would miss me; even if only for the arguments we had. That was one of the things I missed about home as well, my brother in particular. He would asked me to iron his shirt for a shilling, and stupid me would; after all it bought five woodbines and that was like a million pound to me then. One day I ironed it and he held it up saying he wasn’t giving me a shilling, because I hadn’t been particular enough; so I grabbed the shirt back out of his hands and ran up the stairs with him in pursuit. I locked myself in the bathroom and I dunked it in the toilet. He never refused me my shilling after that, in fact he never asked me again. It was silly little things like that that made me homesick.

  The weeks crept by slowly and on my sixth week both me and Maureen expected to go into labour any day. It was like a race that none of us had control of. I remember I thought I’d play a trick on her. I doubled-up in two and started to groan like you see the actresses do in films. She started to panic and said she would run and get help. But before she got to the door I started to laugh. She came over to me and said very sternly

  ‘That wasn’t funny Nan,’ then we both burst out laughing. The laugh was on her because that same night she woke me up at about two o’clock in the morning and told me her water had broken. I just yawned and told her joke was on me, that I was sorry that I pretended to be in labour that day, and to get back to bed before she wakes the rest of the girls. She told me to feel her nighty; sure enough it was soaking wet. I jumped out of bed and helped her to the bathroom where I told her to wait there whilst I went for help. I pressed the button that was situated at the top of the stair. It rang in the nurse’s office down in the private wards. Within minutes an officer and the midwife came to the top of the stairs then I led them to the bathroom where Maureen was sitting on a chair, she was not in pain, but sopping wet and shaking like a leaf. They told me to go back to bed then they took her to the little labour room. I went back to bed, but it took ages for me to sleep. I don’t know if it was worry for Maureen or just pure jealousy she had started before me.

  About three days later I was brushing down the stairs and polishing the banister when I started with little niggling pains in my back. I didn’t know if it was labour pains or just pains with bending. I know I wished for days to go into labour, but I didn’t want it to be today, not on the thirteenth. After a couple of hours I never gave the date a second thought. I got a bit worried. The pains were still there at regular times and were just that little bit stronger. I didn’t want to end up like the girl who nearly had her baby in the bathroom, so I asked Norma who’d had her baby if she thought I was in labour, and how do you know when it’s time to go to the Brigadier and tell her. She said I should tell her now, because some girls have their babies quicker than others. She took me to the Brigadier’s office who telephoned upstairs for the midwife to come down. The midwife asked me a few questions then took me up to what we called the labour room; if you could call it that. The room was very small; with barely enough room to swing a cat. The midwife told me to lay on the bed, which was as hard as bricks and you had to climb onto because it was so high. She examined me and confirmed I was in labour. She told me there was a buzzer on the wall and if I wanted anything to ring the bell. I walked about that little room for hours.

  There was a knock on the door, when I opened it Norma stood there with a tray in her hand she had brought my lunch up to me. She said all the girls were asking about me. I told her I could now guarantee I was not one of them girls she told me had their babies quick. We laughed, and she stayed with me for nearly half an hour chatting, then the midwife came in to check on me. I was still there when Norma came back with my dinner at six o clock. By that time I was having stronger labour pains, and more often. I looked at her and shouted,

  ‘Thank God I was beginning to think I was the only person in this world.’

  ‘I can’t believe your still here chuck. I know you Scots are well known to be tight, but this is ridiculous,’ she said smiling as she laid the tray on the bedside cabinet.

  I burst out laughing. I think it was more because I was glad of a bit of company. I asked how things were going on downstairs. She jokingly told me that everyone had gone on strike waiting for the birth of this baby. I asked if she had heard from Maureen, and she told me she was fine and that she was due to go downstairs tomorrow. She was also waiting for this baby to be born. Because she had bet me five fags it was going to be a boy. It was true, just for a laugh we bet each other what sex our babies were going to be; up to now I had lost. I told her I didn’t care what it was as long as it would hurry up. That was the last living person I saw except for the mid wife every so often checking on me. I was going up the wall locked in that little room alone and in agony with nothing to take my mind off the pain.

  Finally about ten o’clock that night the midwife thought it was time for my baby to be born. I was wheeled to a room where the smell reminded me of the hospital I had my tonsils out when I was about eleven years old.

  As I lay on the delivery bed I was terrified not knowing what was going to happen next. There were two nurses and the midwife. One nurse was at my side, the other was assisting the midwife down below. After all the pushes and panting I was asked to give one almighty push because the baby’s head was nearly out. I did; and felt the baby slither out and the midwife shout out, ‘It’s a girl. You have a beautiful daughter.’ I just cried with relief and excitedly asked to see her. When the nurse put her on my chest, I took a sharp breath and clasped my mouth with my hand. I was shocked. She looked like she had come through the wars, her little face was blue and swollen, and her eyes were all puffed out. The nurse could see I was shocked and upset.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, she’ll be ok, it’s just that some babies have a harder time to get out than others.’ I didn’t believe that one bit; I thought she was just being kind. The nurse took her over to the other side of the room and I watched as she wiped her down with a white towel, then wrapped her up and wheel her out the room in a little transparent crib. I asked where they were taking her and they told me not to worry, I would get her in the morning all nice and clean with a nice clean nightie on. They got me ready and put me in a room all of my own. The room was one of what the private patients pay for. It was very comfortable with bedside cabinets at each side of the bed; all nicely made with crispy fresh sheets. It had an en suite with a bath, wash basin and toilet; it was like something out of a posh hotel. Not that I had ever been in a hotel then. As I sat in the wheelchair waiting for the nurses to sort my bed out I looked out the large window that nearly reached the floor. There was a lovely view to a beautiful garden behind a high wall. I didn’t know it existed till then, but of course it was winter and we very rarely went out except to the toilet for a smoke.

  After the nurses put me in bed they warned me to get some sleep because it would probably be a long time before I got an all-nighter again.

  As I lay in bed that night my thoughts were on my mother. Oh how I needed her, I missed her more than anyone else in the world. There was no such thing as mobile phones, and mum didn’t have a phone in the house, not that we were allowed outside calls anyway, so there was no way of tel
ling her I had my baby. As I lay there I couldn’t believe I had actually given birth to a little girl; My Daughter. I’m her mother.

  Although I was shattered I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing that tiny baby that had just come into this world. I remembered the date, the thirteenth. Oh no I thought, please God don’t let anything happen to her. I kept seeing that little blue swollen face her eyes so badly puffed up that all I could see was two little slits each with a sparkle behind struggling to peep up at me. I loved and worried about her and felt so guilty. I was convinced it was my fault for the way she looked. I worried that Maybe I didn’t take enough care when I was having her, Maybe if I hadn’t spent my whole pregnancy wishing I wasn’t having her. Maybe subconsciously she knew that. Maybe I pushed too hard when in labour, Maybe God was punishing me for all the badness in me, Maybe, Maybe, Maybe, my head was spinning with Maybes for the guilt the way my baby looked. The love I had for that little human being was quite overpowering. Never in my whole life had I ever felt the worry I had suffered that night.

  All of a sudden she wasn’t Billy’s baby anymore; she was just mine, my flesh and blood, and I did that to her. She probably felt all the stress I had and didn’t want to come into this world. I loved this little life more than anything in the world no matter what she looked like.

  The next morning Norma brought me a morning cup of tea, she told me she had seen my baby and that she was beautiful. I smiled with tears in my eyes remembering the little blue swollen face, and I thought she was just being kind. She was there talking to me for over five minutes but I never heard a word she said. I barely spoke I was so upset I just wanted to be alone. As she left she shouted don’t forget to drink your tea while it’s hot. That was the only words I heard her say before she disappeared out the door.

  When the nurse wheeled in the little crib, she said it was time to breastfeed her. She told me not to worry; she would be there to make sure I did everything all right.

  When she reached in the crib and lifted the baby into my arms I took hold of her and held her close. As I looked down at her I could hardly believe my eyes. Her face was perfect, her skin was like porcelain and her eyes were open wide and seemed to be looking up at me. She was absolutely gorgeous, the most perfect baby I had ever seen. I cried and asked her if she was sure this was my baby. ‘She sure is,’ she said smiling. She screamed all the way through me giving her a bath and dressing her. But when, with the nurse’s guidance, I put her to my breast for the first time she quietened down straight away and I fed her without any problem of all. I was the happiest girl in the world, so very proud. The nurse never left my side all the time I seen to her. I asked her if she thought she had enough to drink and she replied.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, she’ll soon let you know if she’s not had enough.’ She smiled then said she was sure I could cope and look after baby myself, feed, change and wash her, but she will be nipping in every so often to check up on us, and do blood pressure and temperature, but meantime if I needed anything I only had to buzz. I asked how long before I would be going downstairs, and she told me in four of five days with my baby if all went well. She was nice, I liked her.

  Late that afternoon, the room was in silence. The baby was asleep and as I lay on top of the bed staring into the crib I still couldn’t believe this beautiful little baby lying there so content was mine. It was at that moment I remembered very strongly my mother’s words when I first told her I was going to get the baby adopted: ‘You’ll change your mind as soon as it’s born, you mark my words.’ A shiver went from the bottom of my spine right up to my neck.

  It was then I realised that mum was right. I had made a bad choice. But I still couldn’t see how I could possibly get out of my commitment to Stan. It would devastate him. How could I do that to him after all he had done for me? ‘Oh! what a mess.’

  Just then there was a tap at the door and as it opened and a face poked around to look at me, it certainly brought me back to reality. It was Maureen. I was so pleased to see her I waved her in.

  ‘Get yourself in here before anyone sees you,’ I said quietly. She ran straight to the crib.

  ‘Aw, she’s beautiful, a little blondie. What have you called her?’

  ‘I’ve called her Barbara after my auntie, because she had been so good to me.’

  ‘Oh, Did you know that name means strange little foreigner?’

  ‘Well in that case they’ve got an extra two little foreigners here then, your little Welsh one and my little Scottish one.’

  We both laughed. It was good to see Maureen, she told me they had taken her son downstairs and she was on the way down, but one of the girls told her where I was so she couldn’t resist coming in as she passed. We chatted for about twenty minutes then she had to check the corridor before she made her escape. I felt a lot better, and was more content, just I and my baby with all my worries swept aside; no doubt I’d pick them up on the way back downstairs. I was so glad that Maureen came to see me and would be there when I went back downstairs because for the last five days I really missed her.

  Five days later was my eighteenth birthday, it was also my first day downstairs. The girls all had cards for me, and clubbed together for the biggest box of chocolates I had ever seen. Of course I shared them out after lunch. The first time I walked into the nursery was so strange. It was like walking into a room I wasn’t eligible to go into. All the chores would be new to me, but like the cleaning and cooking before we had our babies; Maureen and I paired up again. She pointed out the do’s and don’ts. As you walked in the door there was a large sideboard on the top were piles of nappies, little tubs of zinc ointment, tiny tins of baby powder and small bars of baby soap. I had to take one of each, and keep them in the locker behind my stool. Inside the sideboard was everything a baby needed in clothes, vests, nighties, bootees, mittens and matinee coats, you were free to take what you needed; but whatever you took you kept and hand washed it yourself and kept it in your locker. On a table at the side were jugs of warm water with a box of cotton wool balls. Laying them out was part of the girl’s chores. Under each crib was a baby bath for bathing baby, and a bowl which you filled when changing the baby’s nappy. After feeding and changing, every girl had to take their own baby’s nappy and slush it in the slop-stone situated next door to the indoor toilets. Where we then had to put the slushed nappy into the wash basket ready for washing, boiling, and either hung in the airing room to dry or weather permitting outside on the line.

  After explaining the routine, Maureen took me straight to see her baby. He was lovely, a little hungry dark-haired baby boy, howling and waving his arms everywhere demanding to be fed.

  First I had a good old root in the sideboard and picked out all the best I could find for my little Barbara, then I gathered all I needed, a tub of ointment, baby powder, cotton buds, nappy, and took them back and laid them on the top of the my locker ready for use. I then went back for the jug of warm water and poured some into the little bowl. I looked down at the little figure, and hated to disturb her, but I knew if I didn’t she would not last till the next feeding time. I lifted her out of the crib and she immediately gave a big stretch then opened her eyes. I cuddled and spoke to her for a moment before changing her nappy. As I fed her I couldn’t take my eyes of her, looking for signs of who I thought she looked like. I could see a lot of my little niece in her when she was a baby, but to me my baby was more beautiful.

  I soon got used to the new chores we had to do after every feed. And of course we worked in pairs just like before. One pair taking the trays upstairs, one pair cleaning the slush-house out, one washing the nappies, one boiled, rinsed and spun them, and the one that everyone hated because it took longer was hanging the nappies either in the drying room which was really hot and steamy or weather permitting pegging them outside on the line. Then when dry had to fold and put them in the airing room. The chore Maureen and I liked best was cleaning and restocking the nursery, because we were beside the babies more often. An
d of course the rota moved along one every day, just like before, only this time there was no more dishes or peeling veg, it was nice to just come out of the nursery and sit down to breakfast lunch, and dinner. And the biggest bonus of all was to hold that little bundle of joy in my arms instead of wobbling it about inside me twenty-four hours a day for nine months.

  Everything I knitted from then on was for Barbara; I really went to the extreme for her. All my pocket money went on wool. I knitted bootees coats cardigans, of course we were not allowed to put dresses or pantaloons on the babies they all had to wear nighties; even the little boys.

  When visiting time came, I couldn’t wait to show Barbara off to my mother and Stan. I asked one of the officers at feeding time if my cousin Stan could come in to see the baby. She looked shocked as if I had said something disgusting, she drew me a look.

  ‘Certainly not!’ she said in a gruff voice. ‘This is not a thoroughfare for every Tom, Dick and Harry. Only next of kin can step through these doors.’ Well, that was me told; I was devastated. I really wanted Stan to see her because he might have loved her enough to tell me to keep her.

  That afternoon Maureen and I were up at the attic window waiting as usual for the blue van to arrive. It was only my second day downstairs, so even if I wrote a letter mum would never have received it before that days visiting. I was so excited I wanted to be the first to tell mum I had a little girl. When the van finally arrived I made my way downstairs.