In Their Mother's Footsteps

by Mary Wood

  There was still a jumpiness about Leah, as if fear was her constant companion. ‘Look, you’re alreet here, you’ve nowt to worry over. Come on, help me change all the babbies’ bottoms. That’ll take your mind off everything. We only have to do this in the afternoon while the new mums are resting, thank goodness. The smell’s worse than the gas works. I just don’t know how something as lovely and fresh as a newborn babby can produce such stinky poos.’

  Whether or not Leah got the gist of what she’d said, Ginny wasn’t sure. But she laughed and screwed up her nose, asking, ‘Stinky poos? What is this?’

  ‘Follow me, I’ll show you.’

  They had six babies in the nursery, all under eight weeks old, which Ada had told her was a bit unusual. The nannies were finding it difficult to cope, so Ginny had taken on a couple of their duties, changing nappies and helping to bottle-feed the two babies whose mothers refused to take to them to their breasts.

  Ginny loved this new job and was more taken with midwifery and nursery duties than she thought she would be, but something was missing. ‘Eeh, lass,’ she told herself, ‘it’s the hospital you miss.’ And she knew she missed caring for the sick and the dying, the comforting of them and doing what she could for them – the wonderful feeling when they recovered, and the peace inside her when she’d helped someone in their last moments; plus the drama . . . well, all of it.

  With a shudder she realized that this step she’d taken, in the midst of her anguish, probably wasn’t the one she should have taken. But how could she ever leave this place now? Being here, at Jimmy’s Hope House, felt as though she was honouring the memory of her dad. How could she turn round – after all the kindness shown to her, and the happiness brought to her granny through having her here – and say it wasn’t for her. Shrugging her shoulders, Ginny pulled herself up. By, snap out of it – give it a chance. Best foot forward, Mam would say. Oh Mam, Mam . . .

  Looking over at Leah, Ginny watched her cradle little Felicia to her and wondered how Leah would feel, or act, when the time came to make her decision. All unmarried mothers’ homes had a ruling that the baby was taken from the mother after the first few weeks, no matter what, and put up for adoption. But here the mothers could make their own decision. If they chose to keep their child, they were supported for a while until they could get back on their feet – they were housed and were helped to train for a job, if necessary. If they chose adoption, then they were helped in that too, because families taking babbies from here had to agree to let the mother stay in contact, if she wanted to. It was a wonderful system that worked, and all without the word ‘shame’ – or anything of that nature – being uttered.

  Suddenly the scene in front of her changed, and a stab of fear pierced Ginny. Leah shook Felicia as she cried out in anguish, ‘Mon bébé, mon bébé!’

  Ginny rushed towards her. ‘Leah! Leah, what—’ Her words were drowned out by a howl of pain-filled terror, a sound like none she’d ever heard. With it, despair filled Ginny.

  Near enough now to see Felicia, her heart dropped at the blueness of her skin. Grabbing the baby from Leah, she lay her down. Frantically she searched her memory for something she and a few nurses had giggled over – a book containing ancient methods of medicine. In it they had read many funny things, but one had held their interest: a discovery in the eighteenth century by the Chinese of how to save a drowning person. Among the strange suggestions, such as blowing tobacco smoke into the rectum using a pipe, had been blowing air into the lungs by placing your own mouth over the patient’s. It has to be worth a try. Owt’s better than nowt. Oh God, help me – help me.

  ‘Leah, stop screaming and fetch Dr Edith. GO . . . Dr Edith, NOW!’

  As Leah ran out of the nursery, her howl became one long scream of Edith’s name. The nursery throbbed with the sound of terrified babies, taking over Ginny’s thought processes and leaving her confused. Pulling herself together, she lowered the sides of the cot and placed her mouth over Felicia’s. Concentrating fully now, she decided that as the lungs in this case were so tiny, she’d better go carefully. A gentle puff, then remove her mouth. The baby’s chest expanded, but didn’t go back down. Ginny pressed lightly on the little chest and felt air brush her cheek. Blowing a second time and then pressing gently, she saw a little of the blueness fade. Encouraged now, she continued. ‘Come on – breathe, Felicia, breathe.’

  On her fourth attempt, hope rippled through her as she pressed the air out and little Felicia gasped another lungful of her own accord. Tears of joy and anguish flowed down Ginny’s cheeks. ‘Oh, thank you, God, thank you. Keep going, little one, keep going.’

  The door of the nursery opened and Edith, Ada and Leah dashed in. ‘What’s happening, Nurse Ginny?’

  ‘She stopped breathing, Doctor, but she’s breathing again now. I – I blew into her mouth.’ As Edith examined the child, Ginny explained about the Chinese method and how she came to know about it.

  ‘Good work. I think it might be the same book that I and my colleagues laughed over, but all of us have since used various methods from it.’

  They stood in silence as they watched Edith working. Granny Ada stood on one side of the trembling Leah, and Ginny on the other. Reaching her arm around Leah’s tiny shoulders, Ginny felt her granny’s arm already there. They looked over at each other. Concern was etched on Ada’s face.

  Irritated by a noise that Ginny had ceased to hear or take any notice of, Edith asked, ‘Please see what you can all do to quieten the babies. I can’t hear through my stethoscope.’

  Leah didn’t move, but Ginny and Ada raced around the cots on a hopeless mission, until Ada said, ‘In that cupboard over there, Ginny, there’s a bowl full of rubber pacifiers. Fetch them as fast as you can and stick one in each of their mouths.’

  It worked. The only noise now was that of sucking, and the occasional sob from the little ones who had been really distressed. Those who had just been venting their frustration now lay content. ‘Eeh, thank God,’ Ada said as they returned to Felicia’s cot.

  Leah had quietened now, though her body trembled and her face was a pitiful mix of love and fear. There was nothing Ginny could say; she could only hold Leah to her and try to give her some of her own strength.

  Edith straightened her back. She took a deep intake of breath. The expression on her face was one Ginny had seen hundreds of times on the faces of other doctors.

  ‘We need to get Felicia to hospital.’ Looking at Leah, Edith repeated this and added something in French. Leah let out a moan of anguish. Holding her tighter, Ginny asked, ‘What’s wrong with babby, Doctor?’

  Edith shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. I need to have her looked at by a heart specialist. I think she may have a heart defect. I’ll take her myself. Leah can come with me. She needs to, but she can also carry Felicia. It will be the best comfort for both her and the little one.’

  ‘I’ll stay here as long as I’m needed. Is there anything outstanding?’

  ‘Aye, and me,’ Ada chipped in. ‘I won’t leave Ginny.’

  ‘Thanks, both of you. Ginny, it was a wonderful thing that you did. Without it, Felicia would have died before I got to her.’

  Ginny said nothing. To her, it was her job – what she existed to do.

  As she walked towards the door Edith said, ‘Would you check on Maisie Brown for me? I was on my way to her. She’s due any time. And there’s a child in the sick bay: Reggie Garrop. I had left him till last as I think, by the reporting of his symptoms, that he may have measles. If he has, isolate him and set things in motion to check the other children when they come back from school. Thanks, Ginny. Oh, here.’ Edith paused at the door and dug her keys from her white coat pocket. ‘The small one is for the medicine cupboard – there’s a list in there of the regular doses for those in the sick bay. But little Reggie may need something for the fever, and, if things move on, Maisie will need an enema. I’ll leave it all in your capable hands.’

  The door swung closed behind her, leav
ing Ginny with a mixture of feelings. Fear for little Felicia was the biggest of these, but a sense of pride nudged it. Edith trusted her. She had recognized her skills and felt comfortable with giving her the responsibility that she knew Ginny was capable of.

  Not that she had felt belittled in any way, but so far it had felt as if Edith thought she was making all the medical decisions herself. Now, at last, Ginny felt a proper part of Jimmy’s Hope House, and a settled feeling entered her, though it didn’t give her the peace it normally would have done, as her heart feared for little Felicia and for Leah.

  Not two hours later, her fears were founded as Edith returned to the home with Leah.

  As they entered the office where Ginny sat, she knew that the worst had happened.

  There was a stillness about Leah. As if she’d closed down her inner self. Her pale face seemed smaller and more pinched, and her mouth was set in a hard line and looked as though it would never stretch into a smile again.

  Edith, too, had a look about her that told of despair.

  Standing on legs that would hardly hold her upright, Ginny asked, ‘Felicia?’ At Edith’s despairing shake of her head, Ginny’s body swayed, but she got a grip on herself. Leah would need her now. ‘Oh, Leah, I am so sorry. Je suis désolé.’

  A tear seeped out of the corner of Leah’s eyes as she stared at Ginny.

  ‘Sit down. Come on, take a seat here, lass.’

  This time Edith translated, but Leah had understood what Ginny said, as she was already making for the chair that stood in the corner of the office.

  ‘What can I do for you, dear Leah? What can I do?’

  ‘Nothing. Rien, rien.’

  ‘I – I . . .’

  ‘All we can do is be here for her, Ginny. It seems an inadequate thing, but nothing can ease the pain of Leah’s loss. Can you get a sleeping draught and prepare it for her? I’ll pop along and get her a hot drink of cocoa. She likes that.’

  As Edith left, a sound came from Leah that echoed around the room.

  ‘Oh, Leah. Leah, me poor lass. Eeh, I can almost touch your pain. Tell me what happened?’

  ‘She die. Elle est morte . . . Oh, mon Dieu, aidez-moi – help me!’

  Ginny dropped to her knees beside Leah and held the girl’s shivering body.

  ‘I held her . . . in my arms. She die.’

  Still Ginny held Leah close to her. There was nothing she could say. Nothing that would help.

  ‘Her eyes. They look at me. Then they close – Felicia gone, gone; disparue, disparue. No, noooo!’

  The door opened and Edith came back in. ‘Oh dear, poor Leah.’ She crouched in front of Leah and spoke to her in French in a soothing tone. Ginny struggled to understand. But her words did have a calming effect on Leah. Turning her head towards Ginny, Edith asked, ‘Will you bring the sleeping draught along to her bed, Ginny?’

  ‘Yes, but – well, I was planning on sleeping over, as Maisie is progressing now and I thought they might call me during the night. But what if we instruct them to call the district midwife and I make up the other bed in the overnight room? Leah could sleep in there with me, and I can take care of her.’

  ‘Yes, that would be a good idea. Thank you, Ginny. Does Ada know you’re staying over?’

  ‘Yes, I sent her home. She were dead on her feet, bless her.’

  ‘Um, I know how that feels, and you must be tired, too. Thank you for everything, Ginny. I feel as though I have a right-hand woman on the medical side now, and it has taken a lot of pressure off me.’

  This warmed Ginny’s aching heart a little and she managed a smile. Edith smiled back, and Ginny felt that she had found a friend in Edith. Not just acceptance because she was Ada’s grandchild, but real acceptance for herself and her skills.

  With Leah asleep, Ginny lay awake thinking over what Edith had told her: when they’d reached the hospital, the heart specialist – a friend of Edith’s – was waiting for them. Whilst he was examining Felicia she stopped breathing again. They tried to resuscitate her, but she didn’t respond. The specialist suspected a congenital heart condition, but his post-mortem would reveal what type it had been. In the meantime, gentle questioning of Leah had revealed that she had been exposed to rubella, as it had been rife amongst the girls in the house where she had been held captive for weeks. By the time she came to Edith, she had been clear of the infection and had been afraid to tell Edith of it, in case she couldn’t take her in.

  But it made no difference now. Nor would it have done. As Leah was clear of rubella when she arrived at Jimmy’s Hope House, Edith would have taken her in whether or not she’d known. Yes, she would have monitored Felicia closely, but such defects often didn’t show until the child had begun to develop and wasn’t doing so as quickly as other children, or had sweating bouts and feeding difficulties. Felicia had shown the last symptom already, as it hadn’t been easy to get her to take, or keep down, her feed. Poor little mite, she must have had a severe defect, for it to have taken her so quickly.

  Ginny curled up in a ball. Her heart felt heavy and her chest clogged with tears, but she didn’t give way to them. She had to stay strong for Leah. And she would. Whatever it took, she would help Leah through this.

  10

  Elka

  France, late October 1939 – A Reunion is Planned

  ‘Oh, Jhona, why didn’t we force Ania to come with us? Kidnap her, or something. I can’t bear this parting from her, and not knowing if she is all right.’

  Jhona switched off the wireless. ‘Tell me: what were the details of the news broadcast? What has intensified your fears, darling? My French still isn’t good enough to translate it all.’

  They were standing by the wireless in the small breakfast room just off the main kitchen of Marianne’s apartment. Sparsely furnished, it contained only a small round table with four chairs and a sideboard on which the wireless stood – though there was nothing sparse about the design of the furniture because, like everything in the apartment, it was elaborately carved and the table had a solid, mottled-green marble top.

  With her voice reflecting her anguish, Elka related the news broadcast. ‘The last of the Polish Army has surrendered to the Germans. And now Russia is moving forward into our territory, too. Poland is completely occupied. Warsaw is all but flattened. The Germans have set up their government office in Krakow and are reported to be killing, or deporting, Jews. Oh God, why, oh why?’

  ‘What is it, my dear? Why are you so distressed?’ On Marianne’s entry into the room, Elka jumped back from the embrace Jhona had been giving her. Marianne protested at this. ‘Oh, you mustn’t leave Jhona’s arms on account of me, Elka. It’s where you should be. You Polish are as cold as the British, when it comes to love. I can’t imagine why you two aren’t sleeping together, as you are obviously in love.’

  ‘But not married and—’

  Marianne cut Jhona short. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, get married then! What is marriage, other than the issuing of someone’s permission to allow what God has intended to be joined! Why do you need it? Follow your hearts. With the news full of doom and gloom, who knows what little time the world has left.’

  Elka smiled at the adorable Marianne. ‘We know you are right, but we can’t come to terms with your ways.’

  ‘Well, see a rabbi – or whatever it takes. Rid yourselves of your frustrations. But first, I have two letters for you, one from each of the people I know you are worrying about.’

  ‘Oh, thank God. Jhona, will you tell Marianne the news we have heard about Poland? I need to read my letters.’

  Hurrying away from them both, Elka went to the room that Marianne had always said was Edith’s favourite. She sat on the window seat where she knew her mama had often sat for hours when visiting.

  She tore open the letter from Ania. Her heart sank at the contents. Though happy for Ania that she was married to her love, Baruch, Elka couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret. They had always said they would have a double wedding. Besides, she
didn’t like Baruch – he was trouble with a capital T.

  Reading on gave her further concerns:

  I don’t know how much information you are getting about what is happening, but as I write this letter, we are completely under the rule of the German Reich here in Krakow. It is difficult to get letters out. I used a courier for this one, bribing him with a high price, and pray you receive it.

  At this point Ania switched from Polish to Yiddish and spoke of her marriage and of the work being asked of her.

  ‘Oh no! Don’t let this happen, please.’

  Elka hadn’t realized this had come out so loudly, but the door opened and Jhona and Marianne stood there, looking very concerned and asking what was wrong. Neither of them reacted the way she thought they would to her news.

  ‘But surely it is good that she has her man by her side? And the young have to fight back. Who will do so, if they don’t?’

  ‘Marianne is right, darling. And Baruch is not a bad fellow. His heart is good. Yes, he is a political animal, but we Jews need people like him to stand up for us. Ania could do a lot worse.’

  ‘But she is thinking of working for this Resistance group, and as a spy! My God, if she is caught . . .’

  ‘It hasn’t happened yet. Her ideals are sound, and she is in the very best position to do such work. I think she would easily secure a job interpreting, and this will lead her to discover valuable information. She will be safe as long as she denounces her Jewish faith. God, and the Jews, will forgive her for that.’

  ‘But what if they don’t believe her, Jhona?’

  ‘Her story is convincing. She has just found out that the woman she thought of as her grandmother stole her at birth. Now she hates her, and all Jews. It is perfect. And she has proof!’