She was desperate for a bath. Sad that she had missed her visit to Alf. Daunted at the thought of what tomorrow would bring.
Only three sisters remained in residence on the landing and she was now the fourth. The fact that she and Sister Antrobus were now neighbours depressed her. She had noticed that the night porter’s lad was nowhere to be seen. He sat in a wooden cubicle at the bottom of the stairs, just in case the sisters needed anything.
It was Biddy who had finally urged her to move in. How right she had been. ‘I think you might discover a thing or two on that corridor,’ Biddy had said.
As was often the case, Emily had no idea what Biddy was talking about. Right now, all she wanted to do was have a bath and kick off the soaking wet shoes she had been wearing for the past eighteen hours. ‘Bath, here I come,’ she whispered as she removed her shoes and picked them up from the floor.
There was no end of hot water in the bathroom on the sisters’ landing. Sheer luxury after what Emily had endured over the past two years.
She slipped behind the desk on the landing to remove the key to her room. The clean hospital towels were kept behind the desk and she removed two large fluffy ones. The best were kept for Matron and the sisters’ landing. As she held them to her face, she felt foolish for having attempted independent living for so long. The fees for Alf had made it impossible for her to afford anywhere respectable to live alone. She should have just given up and moved in ages ago, she thought.
As she tiptoed along the carpeted landing in her bare feet, not wanting to disturb the sisters, she thought she heard music coming from Sister Antrobus’s room and the murmur of voices. She stopped and listened. Maybe she had friends round? How could she, after the way she had behaved towards Pammy and the case they had dealt with? The two very much older residents had told Emily that they were in bed by eight in the winter, and visions of frilly nightcaps and teeth sleeping in jam jars had flown into her mind.
All was quiet as she moved along towards her room. She had deliberately chosen the furthest one away from everyone else. The corridor suddenly flooded with light; someone had opened a door. Instinctively, she shrank back against the wall, into the shadows, and was glad of the cover as her eyes adjusted. She almost gasped aloud at the sight before her. Then a smile crept across her face.
Mr Scriven stood in the corridor outside Sister Antrobus’s room. There was no mistake. The light from the room shone on his face and besides, Emily had met very few men who were as tall and imposing.
Stepping into the pool of light from the door and throwing her arms around his neck was Sister Antrobus. Emily could hear every word reverberating back to her from the high domed ceiling. She almost wished she couldn’t as she cringed.
‘Will you come back tomorrow, darling?’ she asked.
‘I can’t. It’s my golf day, you know that. Maybe next Monday? I came tonight, my loveliness, because I wanted to thank you for today.’
Emily put a hand over her mouth. Loveliness? In Emily’s wildest dreams she could never have imagined anyone calling Sister Antrobus ‘my loveliness’. She stood stock-still, not wanting either of them to hear or see her. She knew that the next few moments could prove to be incredibly useful.
‘That silly Martha girl. I was only doing my best, trying to help her. I know it was wrong of me, but I thought that as she worked at the hospital I would do all I could. You know how it is. We must look after our own at St Angelus.’
But Sister Antrobus plainly had other things on her mind. She wasn’t paying attention to a word he said.
‘I’ll have died of longing by Monday. I can’t wait a whole week. Please come back inside.’
Emily closed her eyes for a second, unable to bear to look as a gesture of intimacy passed between the two.
‘I can’t, my dear. You know how it is. If my wife suspects anything she will threaten to tell the hospital board. I’ve explained all this before. I’ve a terrible life at home, you know that.’
Emily was surprised at the whining edge to his voice. The pathetic nature of his pleading.
‘You were top spot today, helping cover for me with that silly girl.’ He had now taken hold of both Sister Antrobus’s wrists. ‘You know how important it is that you back me up in this, don’t you? The girl is ashamed of what she has done. She may feel pressured to make outlandish and ridiculous claims to cover her own back. You understand that I may need your further support in this matter, don’t you, my loveliness?’
‘Yes, of course I do. If she tries to damage your reputation she’ll have me to answer to. You’ve been too good to that girl.’
Emily saw a look of relief pass across Mr Scriven’s face. ‘Matron did the right thing, dismissing that common nurse. Good girl,’ he said. ‘You obviously have influence over her.’
Now he had her attention. ‘Oh, yes. I do. She’ll be retiring soon and I’m hoping I will be first in line for her job. Don’t you worry about Matron. I can play her like a finely tuned fiddle. You will be safe with me.’
A thought occurred to Emily and then ran down her spine like a trickle of icy water. In order to leave the corridor, Mr Scriven would have to walk past her. She would be caught listening, eavesdropping. She almost fainted with a combination of repulsion and relief as she heard Mr Scriven say, ‘Not sure if the old boy is up to it, but you know I can never resist you. Back inside, my loveliness.’
Sister Antrobus giggled as they turned back towards the door.
Emily knew she had to seize her moment and she had to do it there and then. It was no use letting them simply slip back into the room. What she had heard and what they were doing was her lucky break. Why did he want her support? Why value her influence with Matron? Why want Pammy dismissed? There was more to this, to what Mr Scriven was saying. Every scrap of intuition was screaming out that he was hiding something. Pammy had been suspended and it was Emily’s job to save her. She didn’t yet know what was what, but, by God, she would find out.
She coughed. They didn’t hear a thing. She tried again, just as the door began to close. ‘Mr Scriven,’ she said loudly.
Mr Scriven froze, and then he and Sister Antrobus stepped back into the corridor looking confused. Neither of them could see her, concealed as she was in the shadows. ‘Mr Scriven,’ Emily said again. ‘What a surprise to see you here.’
She moved away from the wall, holding the towels out in front of her, and stepped into the light. Tiredness and her desperate need for a bath were all but forgotten. She wanted to laugh out loud at the expression of guilt and horror on both of their faces.
Pammy, she thought, I think we have our miracle.
Chapter twenty-nine
‘What on earth is going on?’ Martha heard the night nurse say, her voice loaded with indignation. ‘How dare you push past me? I shall report you to Matron, right now.’
Martha heard the ting of the telephone bell, just as the door to her cubicle burst open and Jake was standing in the doorway. A flash of lightning lit up his face. He looked terrified. His hands hung by his sides and for a moment it was as though he could not believe that it was his Martha in the bed. That he was checking. Scanning her face with his eyes, a face which was now so pale and wan, that it was not how he had ever seen his Martha look. He was soaked through from the torrent of rain that beat against the windows. The only sound in the cubicle was that of water dripping from the peak of his cap, on to the floor. Without another word, he ran across the room, almost knocking over the drip stand as he scooped Martha into his arms.
‘God, Martha, Martha. I have been all over Liverpool looking for you and all the time you were here. There isn’t an inch of the dock road I haven’t covered.’
The stubble of his cheek pressed into the side of her face. His cap lay on the bed where he had thrown it. He was unshaven and rough, but she did not care. The feel of his arms, the smell of him, worked better than any of the painkillers she had been given. The damp of his jacket penetrated her hospital gown and it was like a ba
lm. It was Jake.
Sought out by a frantic Elsie that morning, he had walked the streets all day long. He had scoured every inch, the Pier Head, the dock road. He had been out of his mind with worry.
He had known that Martha was out of sorts. Had put it down to wedding nerves. Excitement. Fear. He wondered whether the work on the house had become too much for her and wanted to kick himself.
‘Shh, shh, shh,’ he said as he rocked and rocked and rocked her, back and forth on the bed. She was upright, almost in his lap as he clung on to her.
‘Shh, shh, shh,’ he said again.
Martha, the grief for her lost baby raw, blurted out the whole story to Jake. As the ward lights flickered back on, she saw that his face was whiter than she had ever seen it before. As he pulled her back into his arms, the only words he uttered were ‘I will kill him’, and Martha was scared that he meant it.
And then Matron walked into the cubicle and Martha saw the recognition on her face.
‘Martha. Branna told us it was you, and I’ve been trying to locate your mother. You have had us all in a bit of a tizzy, young lady.’
Sister Haycock stood behind her, looking exhausted. Soaked, tired, anxious. Martha wanted to ask a useless and practical question: what time was it? She had always lived her life by the clock, to the minute. Her thoughts were scampering, distracting her with useless meanderings. Not wanting to hear what Matron might be about to say.
The possibility that she, her mother and even Jake could be about to lose their jobs was unthinkable.
She was concerned that if Jake let go of her, he would leave the cubicle and do something to Mr Scriven. Something they would all live to regret. But her worries all faded to nothing as a new wave of pain claimed her whole attention.
She placed both her hands over her abdomen, as the pains became stronger. She could feel the perspiration breaking out all over. She was as wet as Jake. She was hot. Her sheets were cold. She hadn’t been offered a bedpan by the night nurse, not since it was all over. Now she felt a warm dribble escape her and knew it was blood. The wave of pain came again and this time she cried out loud. It was too bad, almost unbearable.
‘Mam,’ she screamed. ‘Oh, Mam.’
‘I’m here, Martha.’ Martha opened her eyes and saw that her mother stood next to Sister Haycock. Her friend Biddy hovered by the door. The cubicle was filling.
‘How bad is the pain, Martha?’ Matron asked. ‘Show me where it is.’ She pulled the sheet back.
‘What’s wrong, Matron?’ asked Elsie, terrified.
‘I’m quite sure this can be sorted out with some painkillers and a dose of the new antibiotics, followed by a quick examination to check that the uterus has been fully evacuated. But not until the painkillers are fully working.’ She laid her hand on Martha’s shoulder to reassure her and looked her directly in the eye as she spoke. ‘The examination will be simply to check there are no retained products left behind. It will be as nothing after what you have been through, my dear.’
Matron looked round the room. She noted the empty water jug and glass. She walked to the end of the bed and picked up the TPR chart. The last person to complete an entry had been Nurse Tanner, and before that last entry, the log had been written up every fifteen minutes on the dot. The charts were meticulously filled in until the point where Nurse Tanner had left.
Martha grasped at her abdomen and groaned as the pains returned.
‘Sister Haycock, you stay here with her while I find the night sister and fire up a rocket,’ said Matron. ‘I believe Dr Mackintosh is on call. Could you ask reception to put his light on? Let’s ask him to take a look at her, the poor thing. I have known her since she was a child.’
As Matron stormed out on to the ward, Elsie grabbed hold of Martha’s hand.
‘I’ve been worried sick about you,’ she said as soon she saw that the pain had subsided and Martha had opened her eyes. Jake was now standing next to Elsie, holding Martha’s other hand. The presence of Matron had calmed him a little and now, like Martha, he was concerned for their jobs.
Elsie was still speaking. ‘I don’t know what’s been going on, but Sister Haycock went and knocked on Matron’s door. Luckily I was already on my way here, and we met in the corridor. Dessie got a message to Biddy and she tracked me down. Me and Jake, we’ve been looking high and low for you all day.’
Martha didn’t speak. She knew what was coming next. The why and how. The disappointment and disbelief. But Elsie said, ‘Don’t you worry, queen. Matron will have you sorted soon, but, love, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s been going on.’
‘Well, am I glad to see you out through the other side of this mess.’
They all turned at the sound of Dr Mackintosh’s voice in the doorway.
‘If you all wouldn’t mind stepping outside while I see to the patient? Sister Haycock, could I have a nurse to assist, do you think?’ Elsie and Jake left the cubicle, Jake scooping his cap back up off the bed as he went, and joined Biddy, who had waited in the corridor
Emily didn’t move. ‘Do you mind if I assist?’ she asked.
‘Not at all. The director of nursing herself. Now that is an honour, at the end of what has been a truly mad day.’ He turned to Martha. ‘Now, you have been through enough. We are going to be very gentle with you.’
Once Dr Mackintosh had given her a strong injection of painkillers, had examined her and reassured himself that her uterus was empty, he gave her an intramuscular injection of antibiotics and added an extra dose directly to the drip bottle.
‘And now I’m going to have to return to the bedlam that is Casualty,’ he said, ‘but you won’t be going anywhere, young lady. Preventing infection is going to be our main task here. So you need to settle back and relax. That’s all you have to do now. There’ll be no putting your feet on that floor for at least a week.’
Martha laid her head back on the pillow. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. Dr Mackintosh and Sister Haycock exchanged a glance.
‘Hey now, look. I know it may feel like the end of the world right now, but I have to tell you, after what you went through, you are very lucky to be here. Some women who visit places like the one you did, they don’t live to tell the tale. So my advice would be to look on the bright side. That young man of yours, he’s pacing the corridor outside.’
Dr Mackintosh grinned at Martha, who gave him a weak smile in response.
*
When Biddy had gone home, Martha, Jake, Emily and Elsie spent over an hour talking.
Martha found it difficult to stop crying, but between her embarrassed, protracted and garbled outpourings they all grasped the gist of what had occurred. She knew there would be repercussions, but there was nothing else she could do now, and to her surprise she felt better, once it was all out in the open. Everything that happened to her now was in the gift of others, and in a way she was grateful. She doubted that she could even dress herself again, the way she felt.
Later, Matron spoke to her.
‘Martha, I cannot imagine what you have been through, and there are courses of action open to you. However, if you are concerned for the good name of yourself and your mother, I would like to reassure you. By tomorrow there will be no Mr Scriven at St Angelus. He will be gone. It’s up to you to decide whether or not you wish to involve the police. I will not put any pressure on you one way or the other, but rest assured, I will be taking my own action immediately.’ She turned to Emily. ‘Now, Sister Haycock, if you will come with me, there is a certain Nurse Tanner we need to discuss.’
Martha turned her head towards Jake, who had not spoken a word while she had told her story. Her eyes filled with fresh tears and unspoken questions.
‘Martha,’ Jake said, sitting down on the edge of her bed and slipping his arm around her shoulders. Matron could not suppress a frown at the sight of a porter’s lad sitting on the bed, but her better judgement let it pass.
Elsie kissed her daughter on the forehead and slipped out of the room
after Emily and Matron. Martha needed sleep, but for that sleep to be worth anything she needed a few moments with Jake first.
‘I hope he does the right thing,’ Elsie said as she walked to the door.
‘Oh, he will. He will,’ said Matron. ‘Love conquers all. Or so I hear.’
* * *
‘Martha, none of this was your fault. You know that, don’t you?’
Martha didn’t answer, she couldn’t. They weren’t the words she needed to hear.
‘You have to decide what is the best thing to do, but that bastard should be behind bars. Anyway, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You’ve been through enough, without the police getting involved.’
‘I don’t know, Jake.’ He still hadn’t said what she wanted to hear. The only thing she wanted to hear.
A silence fell between them and Martha felt as if it was pushing them apart. As it grew, she panicked.
‘Jake,’ she said. ‘I’ll understand if you’ve decided you don’t want to marry me, I will. You won’t want used goods, will you?’
Jake rested his head on top of hers. ‘I was just listening to your breathing, queen. I was thinking to myself that this is the first time we’ve been in bed together.’ Despite everything, they both laughed. Martha flinched with pain. ‘Is it bad? Shall I get them to call the doctor back?’
‘No, it’s fading now,’ she said. ‘The doctor said the solution of carbolic the woman used was so strong it has burnt my lining off inside, but he said that he hoped it would repair itself, in time. I’ve not to get pregnant for a year, though, he said.’ She held her breath.
‘Well, that’s all right, we can wait. Martha, there’s something you don’t know about and I was keeping it for a surprise, but I reckon you need a bit of good news right now. Last year, I won on the pools. We aren’t rich, but we are comfortable. I told you, Dessie’s going to promote me to under-porter. So you’re going to be marrying a man with a proper job.’
At last, he had said it. Martha had been sure Jake would no longer want to marry her, but he did. She would stay in bed for however long it took. Follow every order. She would recover. She had a future to look forward to. As Jake hugged her to him and rocked her to sleep, Martha vowed she would never forget the little boy she had seen for only a second. No one would want to talk to her about him. No one would want to know. But she would remember him. He came from her. He was part of her, and he would live, in her heart.
The Angels of Lovely Lane Page 37