by Jane Yeadon
‘If we hurry we could beat them to it,’ Marie quavered, ‘or maybe they’ll just pass us by. It’ll look bad if we cross the road just in front of them.’
A figure detached himself from the crowd and, picking up speed, weaved towards us. With a fine disregard for melody he yelled, ‘Look! Women!’
As if it would give us immunity and clinging onto her rosary, Marie squeaked, ‘Girls!’
‘I wish I’d on my Doc Martens,’ said Seonaid. ‘I’m thinking they’d be very useful right now. Jasus! I should have left when Matron gave me the chance.’
When I was applying to Belfast to do my training for a bit of adventure and change, I hadn’t quite bargained on this level of excitement . Now I was gripped with the same regret as Seonaid. The crowd coming towards us looked so ferocious I thought we might be about to jettison maternity for eternity.
‘Come on! Let’s just cross. Now!’ Seonaid grabbed our arms, dragging us to the edge of the pavement.
‘Watch!’ I cried. A van was hurtling towards us. Then over the sound of the crowd came the screech of its tortured brakes, followed by a terrible silence.
15
MISSION VAN
The van had slewed round. Marie was crying, which seemed unneces- sary since Seonaid, apparently sound in wind and limb, was asking the driver what had kept him.
With timing better than in any B-movie the driver had cranked down his window, saying in a familiar voice and with the cool grace of a man accustomed to walking on water, ‘Hop in!’
I never thought I would be so pleased to see Raymond – or his old beat-up truck, even if since our last trip it had acquired a large crack that fractured the windscreen. The pink sticking plaster attempting to cover it added a rakish look, but still I thought it had more appeal than a Rolls-Royce.
The roar of the crowd faded as, scrambling aboard, we slammed the door behind us. ‘Let’s go then,’ he cried, throwing a devil-maycare arm out the window to slap the van side by way of encouragement .
We roared full throttle down the Falls Road. Cautiously, I felt around. Apart from football supporters robbed of their quarry something else was missing. ‘It’s too comfortable in the back. What have you done with the pelvis?’
‘Oliver took it. He and his girlfriend were planning some study and thought it might come in handy.’
‘I thought they’d gone their separate ways,’ said Seonaid. Sitting in the front, she had assumed the brace position. ‘And I see from the side we’re on, you’re practising for driving in France.’ She gripped her knees. ‘Personally, in case anybody feels like asking, I’d just like to survive here in the Oulde Country.’
‘Ah, don’t you be worrying now. This way makes cornering easy.’ Raymond pulled so hard on the steering wheel the van began to list in such a fashion it seemed impossible not to capsize. ‘Oliver and Bridie have made it up – seems she’d second thoughts after watching him play a big part in a recent delivery.’
‘She should have seen him playing an even bigger one in the sluice,’ I could have said had I not suddenly been jammed into Marie who was squeaking enough to show she was still alive. The van righted itself in time for another corner.
‘Look,’ boasted Raymond, ‘Grosvenor Road.’
‘I know,’ said Seonaid. ‘We’re so close to the road sign, I could have read it without my lenses and isn’t this the road that takes you to the main hospital and Maternity entrances? Since we girls are meant to take the tradesman’s entrance we’d hardly know this was here – not unless we were on a special tour.’ She sounded full of disapproval.
Wheels spun and we swayed as if in a drunken waltz. Then, making a crazy burst along a straight stretch, we screamed along before two-wheeling into a smaller road fronted by square buildings. They’d a liverish colour and were so utilitarian and uniform-looking we must have reached the hospital complex. With a sigh of relief Seonaid read out a sign on the first building. ‘Maternity! Well thank the Lord for that.’
‘Hitherto an unseen treasure,’ I said, taking in high, mean-eyed windows and a main entrance door beside which were larger, crowdrepelling double ones. ‘They must be for the ambulances. With style like yours, Raymond, you could drive through them without breaking speed. Say we’re an emergency.’
Raymond laughed and took his foot off the pedal. ‘Three ladies in labour? I don’t think so.’ The van, seeming pleased to have a rest, coughed then shuddered to a halt. Steam issued distress signals from under the bonnet but Raymond ignored them. He pointed to a block, squat and toad-like on its own, a few metres further along. ‘I can let you off now. That’s the district unit. It’s got a back door to the Home so you can get in easy enough. Nobody’ll notice. Nurses come and go all the time.’
Seonaid was suspicious. She tried to wipe the steam off the window but it was all on the other side. Tut-tutting, she craned her neck to look out. ‘How d’you know?’
Raymond splayed his fingers, banged them on the wheel then stretched back in a relaxed way. ‘It’d be odd if I didn’t. Our medical residence’s just behind the medical school there.’ He nodded at a big complex opposite the unit and separated by a grassed area with trees moving dark shadows over it. ‘The District midwives are going out at all times – we see them on their bikes during the day and they get taxis if they’ve to go out at night. They tell me babies come at all times but maybe, being a mere medic, I’m just making an assumption and I’m sure you’ll tell me if I’m wrong.’
Whilst Seonaid exuded silence, Marie was perking up and looking about with the lively interest of a keen student. ‘So this is where we’ll be coming if we get through First Part Mider, and I suppose that adjoining shed there’s where they keep the bicycles. I’ve heard they’re the best bit about District. Just think, girls! The freedom of the road with all the traffic stopping to let you through!’ She whirred her thumb as if already ringing her bell. ‘It must be like flying.’
‘You might remember that, Raymond, the next time you put the foot down.’
I’d never seen Seonaid so sour but suddenly she started, then pointed at somebody peering through the shed window. ‘Hey! That looks like Margaret.’
‘That’s because it is Margaret. I wonder what she’s doing there.’ Margaret’s furtive skulking was making me especially curious.
‘Let’s go and find out.’ Seonaid made to get out but Raymond stayed her. ‘Just before you go, will you tell me if you’ll come to the Medical Ball? I did ask you before but you didn’t get back to me. It should be good craic but I need to know now so that I can get tickets.’ His open, farmer’s face was clouded with anxiety.
Stuck in the back, Marie and I could do nothing other than affect a huge interest in Margaret. Raymond didn’t seem to mind an audience but Seonaid wasn’t playing, saying nothing, chewing her lip and tapping her toes together by way of showing she’d been struck dumb. Tension in the van grew. Marie nudged me. We held our breath.
There wasn’t enough room for her to sit cross-legged, but as it was Seonaid, her arms folded across her chest gave a good impression of a leprechaun deep in thought. At last she managed, ‘Ach, I’m not sure now – I need time to think, and would you look at Margaret – you’d think she was trying to break into that shed.’
Marie, growing restless, leant forward and, placing a timid hand on Seonaid’s shoulder, said, ‘Would you stop changing the subject? Raymond here’s just after helping us through a sticky patch. I don’t know what we’d have done if he hadn’t come along, so at the very least you should be grateful, and, as for going to a Ball, why would you not want to go to one – it’s yourself that loves dancing.’
‘She’s right. Just go,’ I put in. ‘Come on, Seonaid, we’re all waiting, and more to the point, we’re in one bit. There was a while I thought we’d have to be scraped off the Falls.’
Seonaid sighed, threw up her hands then said in an exasperated way, ‘Oh, alright then, but if I don’t enjoy myself, I’ll just come home.’
‘You wo
n’t have far to go,’ said Raymond, a wide smile throwing him out of nonchalance mode. ‘It’s going to be in the medical school. Oh, it’ll be a grand affair alright. You won’t be thinking of leaving till the last waltz.’
‘And I won’t have to pay for the ticket?’
‘Certainly not!’ Raymond sounded affronted.
‘Well, OK then,’ said Seonaid with a sigh. ‘Thanks for the lift and come on, girls or we’ll miss Margaret.’
We tumbled out. Raymond, apparently unfazed by Seonaid’s ingratitude, slammed a valedictory whack on his trusty steed then roared off tooting the horn. ‘He’s going to wake everybody up with that racket,’ Seonaid complained. ‘God! He’s so unaware. I wish I’d never said I’d go to the ball.’
‘Oh well, you have now.’ I was philosophical. ‘What’s wrong with him anyway? He’s so cheery and I bet he’ll make a good doctor. And as for the ball, Cynthia’s going and she’ll keep him in order as well as everybody else. You never know, Seonaid, if you’re not careful, you might just enjoy yourself. Now, where’s Margaret?’
We turned to look then jumped in fright on two accounts. Firstly on being startled by someone who had unexpectedly arrived and secondly on who that someone was.
‘What was that terrible racket and what do you suppose you’re doing out here at this time of night?’ asked Matron.
We could have asked her the same question. Was she not supposed to be tucked up in bed contemplating its virginal eighteen-inch sheet turnover, figuring how to get more carbolic into the medical system? She was the last person we – and Seonaid in particular – needed to see but it would have taken a brave heart to ask what a Matron was doing out at this time of night, fresh as the approaching morning but twice as frosty.
‘Well?’
Rabbit-like, we were caught in the searchlight of her enquiry. We scuffled our feet on a pavement lined with small shrubs. They looked sickly but strong enough in the biting wind to whip our ankles as if urging escape.
‘I’m waiting for an explanation.’
I heard Seonaid draw breath. Aware that she was in no mood to receive another lecture I kicked her hard whilst Marie gave a pitiful whinny. The moon, as if sensing trouble, hid behind a curtain of cloud, leaving us ghastly-looking in the colour-robbing street lights.
‘And if it’s not yourself, Matron, but isn’t it grand to be seeing you.’
Margaret emerged from the shadows. With her slightly bowed head and clasped hands she wore the mien of some saintly academic out on a spiritual voyage whilst her voice had the husky quality of sweet reason. ‘We’ve all just been taking a stroll before going back to study.’
She was wearing a cloak that she flung out in an all-embracing gesture. ‘Were we not just saying, girls, that a little fresh air’s the very thing to help clear the brain?’ We nodded as if hypnotised whilst Margaret pressed on. ‘Of course we could have gone down the Falls Road, but sure it’s full of revellers after watching the football and we knew you wouldn’t want us putting our lives at risk amongst such crowds.’
Resistant to the most beatific of smiles, Matron was more intent on regaining ground.
‘Never mind the Falls Road. I wouldn’t be here had it not been for that dreadful car noise. It must have wakened the entire district.’ She gestured at the surrounding buildings that were as alive as a morgue. ‘This is a hospital area not a fairground. I must have the driver’s name and you girls must know him.’
Margaret looked surprised. ‘Well I certainly don’t but of course there’s a medical residency around here and he may well be one of their students, and you know how thoughtless they can be.’ She smiled indulgently. ‘Their training hasn’t the same discipline as ours so I suppose we shouldn’t expect too much from them, eh? Now, girls!’ She stretched her arms then, pulling the cloak close, spoke with the confidence of a theatre Sister after a successful operation. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Matron, we really need to be going back inside. Study calls, and maybe you too should be coming inside with us. It’s really bitter out here and we wouldn’t want you to be getting your death of cold.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t we?’ muttered Seonaid as we scurried away from the battlefield and after our leader.
‘Hey, Margaret, we can’t thank you enough. You really saved our bacon there,’ I said as we tumbled into the lift, ‘but don’t tell us you just happened to be out in a freezing cold night just for the good of your health.’
Margaret blushed, then put the lift button on hold. ‘No. In fact, it’s a good thing you came along when you did. I wouldn’t have wanted Matron asking me too many questions. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’ In a shame-faced way she bowed her head, ‘I’ve a really big problem …’
16
A LOSING GAME
‘So how’re ye doin’?’
Last night seemed like a dream with Seonaid in skipping mode, looking refreshed and ready for any kind of action whilst Marie had the bright, optimistic look that only a morning of clandestine christenings could offer.
We were passing through the main hall where the receptionist was sorting the mail with the random accuracy of a paper dart thrower. I wasn’t looking for letters today, unlike Cynthia who was hovering nearby and looking unusually humble.
‘Hello there, Cynthia. You’re up early. I thought you’d a day off.’
‘Just checking if I’ve mail and can get it.’ She raised her eyebrows as Miss MacCready ignored her and continued her postal sorting duties.
Marie, plainly not as interested as Cynthia in mail matters, had been fidgeting beside us and could contain herself no longer.
‘I’ve got some big news and I think it’ll please you, Cynthia,’ she burst out.
Seonaid and I were horrified. Surely she wasn’t going to split on Margaret, and to Cynthia of all people? We hoped for restraint but Marie, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling, was unstoppable. ‘Great news!’ She glanced over, daring us to interrupt, then pressed on. ‘Seonaid’s been asked to the Medical Ball! One of the students asked her last night. Isn’t that grand?’
Her happiness barely registered on Cynthia. Keeping her eyes trained on Miss MacCready, she said, ‘Oh, a student!’ Her sniff was dismissive. ‘Well that’s jolly nice for you I’m sure and of course I’ll see you there, but we’ll be at the doctors’ table.’
Seonaid was less than enthusiastic as she shrugged. ‘The food better be good no matter what table we’re on. Anyway, I’m not that keen to go but these two yokes persuaded me.’ She prodded us hard. ‘So now I’ll have to find something to wear and I don’t suppose Raymond will want to fund that.’
Marie herself might not be going to the Ball but she was plainly enjoying its prospect. ‘And have you got your dress, Cynthia?’
‘Actually, that’s why I’m here. The one I was telling Jane about is a little out of my budget range. I’ve phoned Daddy to ask for help buying it and I’m waiting for a cheque to arrive any moment.’
‘So no gold number yet then?’ I asked.
‘No.’ The reply was flat and since the receptionist now seemed to have gone blind as well as deaf, Cynthia flung her hands up in exasperation and said, ‘I don’t know what I’ve to do to get noticed around here but at least I’ve got a day off.’ She raised her voice fractionally, aiming it at the back of Miss MacCready’s top knot. ‘So I’ve plenty of time to wait for when the mail eventually gets sorted. I’m going to take a seat, no matter how long it takes.’
We left her sitting on one of the window benches at the front entrance. She’d crossed her arms and fixed a steely glare upon the receptionist who was now slowing down to a snail’s pace and complaining about how difficult certain letters were to decipher.
‘By the time Cynthia gets that letter, the Medical Ball will have been and gone,’ I said as we headed for work. ‘Miss MacCready shouldn’t be giving her such a hard time. You could see she’s desperate for that letter – I kind of feel sorry for Cynthia.’
‘Me too, and for Margaret as well.
Sure an’ I never thought I’d ever say that – they’ve always seem such copers.’ Marie was astonished.
Seonaid put in, ‘You’re right. On top of all that stuff last night, Margaret certainly gave us a big surprise. It’s the last reason I expected her to be where she was, still less that she needed help and we kind of owe her for sorting out Matron.’ She had a speculative look. ‘Jane, with all your tales about gadding round the countryside, you’d be up for helping, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course, but we won’t need an audience. Maybe an ambulance though.’ I turned to Marie. ‘What d’you say we Cinderellas have a trial run the night of the ball when everybody’s attention’s taken up with all the excitement of that?’
Ruminating on Margaret’s secret I got to the labour ward, where in the absence of any labouring patients, Sister Flynn was scribbling out the week’s duty rota.
‘You’re not here,’ she said, twirling the pencil, ‘you’re to go to the Special Nursery.’
I must have looked surprised as I turned on my heel, because she added irritably, ‘Not right now, you eejit, next week. How many deliveries have you now?
‘Four.’
‘You’ve done well then for this being your first time here.’ From her dry tone I presumed she meant numerically. ‘And I hope you’ve got your witness book handy. I don’t remember signing it at all.’
‘I’ll bring it in, Sister. It’s not quite to hand.’
How true! In all my post-delivery excitements I’d forgotten this essential detail. I wasn’t even sure where the book was. It must be somewhere here. But where?
It was nerve-wracking enough going to be cast loose in the nursery with its frail little passengers, but without finding the book and getting it signed I wouldn’t be going anywhere. I cast my mind desperately to where I’d last seen it.