by Emma Fraser
Whatever Margaret’s disappointment at not securing a post at the Rotten Row Maternity Hospital, she knew she was fortunate to be working alongside some of the most formidable and experienced women doctors in Britain.
Inside there was a large reception hall with a marble floor and marble pillars, its walls graced with paintings that wouldn’t seem out of place in Kelvingrove Art Gallery. Ten of the families that lived in one of the Govan tenements could live here and still have room to spare. Thinking of Govan immediately led her to think of Alasdair. She hadn’t seen him since the day he’d kissed her, but she thought of him all the time.
She was shown into Dr Quigley’s office. The head of the hospital was a contemporary of Dr Louise McIlroy and although Dr Quigley hadn’t served in the war, she’d gained a great deal of experience at the Royal while the male doctors had been away.
‘Welcome, Dr Bannatyne. Please take a seat. Congratulations, by the way. We’re always delighted to have another woman join our ranks. We know better than most what it takes. It behoves us to work harder than our male colleagues. Both at medical school and in practice.’
‘Thank you, Dr Quigley. I’m looking forward to working with you. And looking forward to working here.’
‘I daresay you would have preferred a resident’s position at one of the larger voluntary hospitals. Never mind, it will come. In the meantime, the teaching here is second to none. Although you are now qualified we expect our doctors to keep up with the latest innovations. Our continuing reputation depends on it.’ She sniffed. ‘I can assure you we have no incidences of puerperal fever here. Just as well. One case would be enough to close us down.’
The absence of puerperal fever, something that had plagued the larger hospitals over the years, was in no large part due, Margaret suspected, to the type of patient who was admitted.
‘A clean white coat every day is an absolute requirement as is scrupulous cleaning of hands and instruments,’ Dr Quigley continued. ‘We also have a list of rules and regulations for visiting surgeons.’ She passed a piece of paper across to Margaret. ‘As you can see we insist that gloves and gowns as well as masks are worn at all times in theatre. Masks must be worn at all times in the labour suite too. If any of the visiting doctors attempt to refuse, you must alert me at once. Is that clear?’
‘Perfectly. I have purchased several white coats. I assure you I wouldn’t dream of wearing the same one twice.’
‘Of course, of course. But we have to be sure. You do see that. As you’re aware, your post is as House Officer, which means, at least at first, that you’ll be confined to the hospital. I’ll have one of the nurses show you to your room when we’ve finished. I think you’ll find it comfortable.
‘Now where was I? We plan to employ a House Surgeon after the summer, but until we do you will have sole responsibility for all the wards. You must see every patient twice a day and record their treatment and progress to present to the doctor in charge of their case. Most of us come in to see our own patients as often as is necessary, but of course if you have any concerns you must let me know immediately and I will contact their doctor or come and see them myself. You will be responsible for ordering any special tests that might be required, such as X-rays or other pathological tests, but of course you will test urine samples yourself. You’ll have responsibility for all the obstetric cases but must notify the obstetrician or doctor in charge when labour has progressed sufficiently or if there are any circumstances requiring her presence. If necessary you will help with the anaesthetic both in labour ward and in theatre, where you may also be required to assist.’ She slipped another sheet of paper across the desk. ‘It’s all written down. These are the rules for the House Officer. Everything should be clear. We might be a small hospital but we are a busy one. If there is anything you are worried about you may speak to me if I’m here, or the doctor in charge of the patient. Otherwise it will be up to you to make your own decisions. How does that sound?’
‘Wonderful! Shall I get started?’
Dr Quigley’s expression relaxed. ‘I like it that you’re keen. But I think we should get you settled into your room first, don’t you?’
The work wasn’t onerous and the time passed quickly. Every day she had a couple of hours off for supper before final ward rounds. On the third day, not feeling particularly hungry, she decided instead to go for a walk in the Botanic Gardens, which were immediately adjacent to the hospital.
She’d taken only a few steps when she heard a familiar voice call her name. She spun around to find Alasdair standing behind her. Her heart stopped. It had been almost a week since she’d seen him last. Almost a week of sleepless nights as she’d lain in bed thinking of his mouth on hers, his hands on her waist, the feel of his hard chest under her palms. Nights when she’d recalled every word they’d said to each other, her heart shattering into a thousand tiny pieces at the thought she might never see him again.
‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.
‘Did you really think I would give up so easily? I’ve been waiting here every day since Monday, knowing that sooner or later you’d appear.’ He grinned. ‘I tried to get inside to see you, but a fierce-looking woman in a nurse’s uniform turfed me out. Something to do with being a man.’
‘You should go,’ she said.
‘Only if you swear you don’t love me.’
She couldn’t. Of course she couldn’t.
He stepped towards her and took her by the shoulders. ‘I love you, Margaret Bannatyne, and I believe you love me too. If I’m wrong tell me and you’ll never see me again.’
She could only nod. She had no idea what the future held for them, even if there were a future, but she was helpless to do anything to change the way she felt about him.
Alasdair took her by the arm and led her through the gate of the gardens and towards a part enclosed by hedges. He pulled her into his arms and whispered into her hair. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you. I think about you all the time until I think I’ll go crazy with wanting you. I never wanted to fall in love with a Bannatyne, but you crept into my heart from the moment I first saw you. You’re everything your father isn’t – good and kind —’ He held her at arm’s length, ‘— and so damned beautiful. No other woman has ever made me feel a fraction of the way you do.’
He pulled her back into his arms and she gave herself up to him, knowing, at last, she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Later, as they sat close on one of the benches, she turned to him.
‘That day at the shipyard, my father said your father was trouble. What did he mean?’ His eyes took on that wintry look she was coming to know so well.
‘Before the unions, my father was always the one to stick up for the workers, and your father didn’t like that. Even worse, he hated the fact that my dad didn’t believe in the war. Dad thought it was just a ruse by the imperialists to make lots of money. And your father and many like him did just that. More ships were built on the Clyde during the war than at any time before.’
‘But we needed ships!’
‘Aye, so we did. To carry munitions and to bring more poor souls to their death.’
‘The war had to be fought.’
‘Did it? Are you sure? My dad wasn’t the only one who thought it was wrong. Your brother did too. Many in the Labour and Communist parties thought it was wrong too – including the leaders.’
‘Yet you fought,’ she said.
‘I didn’t say I agreed with my father. I was young. I thought there was glory in fighting. I thought that we were fighting to make this a land fit for heroes. That’s what we were told and, more fool us, we believed them. If anything our lives were worse when we came back. There weren’t enough jobs for all the returning soldiers. Not nearly enough.’ He sighed and as his eyes darkened, Margaret buried her head in his shoulder.
‘My father,’ Alasdair continued after a while, ‘was one of those who called the strike in 1919. Do you know they used tanks and soldiers
to break up what was a peaceful, legitimate gathering?’
Margaret didn’t.
‘Dad was arrested that day along with many others. He never worked for your father again. He was a broken man after that. He died less than a year later, my mother six months after him. I’m sure losing him was the reason she didn’t fight the pneumonia.’
‘I am so sorry.’ She sat up so she could see him.
He took his gold fob watch from his pocket and rubbed his fingers across the case. ‘My mother gave this to my father as a wedding present. It is all I have of them except,’ he looked at Margaret, his eyes dark with remembered pain, ‘the belief that the ordinary man, and woman, has a right to a decent life, free from hunger and cold. At the very least he should be allowed his dignity. After Dad died I took up the fight on his behalf, and your father hates me for it.’ He turned the timepiece over in his hands. ‘If I ever lose faith I look at this and I hear Dad’s voice as clearly as if he were still alive.’ He returned the watch to his pocket and gave Margaret a sad half-smile.
‘But my father never fired you.’
‘He couldn’t. He would only have had another strike on his hands. Things were bad for the shipyards after the war and a strike might have put your father out of business as it did other yards which, by the way, he was quick to buy up. He couldn’t stop us striking alongside the rest in ’twenty-six. Not that it achieved anything. All it did was make our working conditions worse and put more power in the hands of people like your father. He might be ruthless, but he’s not stupid.’
It seemed that the father she’d thought she’d known was only a figment of her imagination. ‘He won’t be happy when I tell him I’m not going to marry Robert and that I’m courting you instead.’ She shivered. Although it didn’t bear thinking about, he’d have to be told.
Alasdair placed his hands on either side of her face. ‘Perhaps if I was a better man I would let you go.’
‘Don’t you dare even think of letting me go, Alasdair Morrison.’ She kissed him long and hard to make sure he understood, and they were both breathing heavily when they broke apart. ‘It’s my life, Alasdair, and I’ll be the one to decide what to do with it.’
She usually had Sundays off, the occasional evening too, and this was when she would meet with Alasdair. She still hadn’t told her parents about him and this troubled her. However, in a few months, Alasdair would have sat and passed his law exams. Her father was much more likely to accept a lawyer as a suitable beau for her than someone who, God help her when her father found out, worked in one of his shipyards.
She would tell her parents about him soon, but only after she’d told Robert. It was only fair. He’d had to extend his stay in London and he’d written to her apologising for staying away but telling her he’d be back as soon as he could. To her relief there were no words of love and no mention of setting a wedding date. Perhaps he too had realised that they weren’t meant for each other? She hoped so. She wrote back, keeping her letters light and matter of fact. She couldn’t break things off by letter. That would be cowardly and Robert deserved better.
Chapter 9
On her first afternoon off, she returned to Govan. As she’d hoped, Alasdair was there visiting Mairi and Toni. When he saw her, his face lit up and her heart tumbled inside her chest.
‘Margaret, we’ve missed you!’ Mairi said, turning from the stove. ‘And we’re not the only ones, I’m thinking,’ she added with a mischievous sideways look at Alasdair.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ Alasdair said, his casual greeting belied by the expression in his eyes.
There were one or two patients needing to see a doctor, but mindful of her conversation with Dr Forrest, she made sure they weren’t on his or one of his colleagues’ list before she examined them. After that she had a cup of tea with Mairi while Alasdair talked to Toni. When she got up to leave, he did too.
Although the sky was heavy with threatening rain, they took the ferry before starting to walk along Dumbarton Road. Her heart hadn’t resumed its normal pace ever since she’d stepped inside Mairi and Toni’s home and seen him there.
‘I missed you,’ Alasdair said.
‘I missed you too.’ At that moment the sky darkened and the heavens opened. Within minutes they were both soaked to the skin. For once there were no trams in sight.
Alasdair pulled her into a doorway. ‘I live in the next block. Come on, let’s go there. You can dry off.’
Margaret’s heart leaped to her throat. She wanted to be alone with him, but to go to his rooms? Yet they couldn’t huddle here in the close. Wordlessly, she nodded her agreement.
They crept up the stairs to the first floor, thankfully passing no one on the way.
He had two rooms – one a small sitting room with a door off which she assumed to be his bedroom. The sitting room, which also served as a kitchen, was sparsely furnished but clean. Along the wall with the window ran a worktop on top of which was a two-ringed electric cooker and a couple of pots and pans, a plate and a cup and saucer. In addition to a couple of armchairs on either side of a gas fire, there was a table laden with books on law, many of them half open. Once more she wondered at his energy. To hold down two jobs as well as study for his exams…
Outside, thunder crashed, followed by a flash of lightning. He left her for a moment, returning with two frayed towels, one of which he passed to her. ‘It’s clean, I promise.’ He used the other to rub his hair dry, before bending to light the gas fire. It lit with a pop.
‘Come and sit by the warmth,’ he said.
Her teeth chattering, she did as he asked. ‘I shouldn’t be here.’
‘You can’t leave until the storm is over.’
He took his coat and wrapped it around her. He crouched in front of her and as she looked into his eyes the world seemed to stop turning. Very gently he took her face between his hands. ‘I love you, Margaret Bannatyne. I’ll never stop loving you.’
Her heart was hammering so hard she could hardly breathe. Her senses had never been so alive. She was acutely aware of the drumming of the rain, the clap of thunder, the rumble of a passing tram, the hiss of the fire and the feel of his palms against her skin. He smelt of grease and wood smoke.
He brought his mouth down on hers and everything receded until all she was aware of was the sound of their ragged breathing, the heat in her abdomen, the liquidness of her limbs.
When he pulled her to her feet, she pressed against him. She should stop this, she knew that, but she was powerless to do anything except return his kisses. He tipped her chin so she was looking directly into his eyes.
‘I think you love me too.’
All she could do was nod.
‘You can’t marry your lord, you know that,’ he said softly. ‘There’s only one person you’re going to marry and that’s me.’
She felt as if she were at the edge of a precipice, that the tiniest step would either take her to safety or plunge her into something strange and wonderful, but knowing that whatever she did or said next would change her life forever.
She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth back down to hers.
Later, they lay in his bed, the sheets tangled about their limbs. She should have been shocked by what they’d just done, but instead she felt a wild, surging joy. All the restlessness and anxiety she hadn’t even known she’d been feeling was replaced with a deep peace. It was as if her soul had been missing a part for a very long time. For once she wasn’t worried about the future or the past. All she wanted was here, beside her in this room.
She ran a fingertip across his hard muscled chest. ‘My hair must be all over the place,’ she murmured.
‘You have never looked more beautiful to me than you do now.’ He propped himself on his elbow and looked down at her. ‘All my life I’ll remember this moment.’
‘And I have never felt happier.’ Sooner or later she would have to face the consequences of what she’d done. Dear God – Robert! She sat
up, holding the sheets to cover her breasts. ‘What time is it?’
Alasdair jumped out of bed and without the least bit of self-consciousness of his nakedness walked across the room, picked up his waistcoat and retrieved his fob watch from its pocket. ‘Six.’
She scrambled out of bed, grabbing her clothes. ‘I must go. Robert is coming back tonight and I have to see him. To tell him I can’t marry him.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Alasdair said.