War Babies

by Annie Murray

  ‘What?’ Danny shot up in bed. Seconds later, he was down the stairs and shouting, ‘Auntie! Help!’

  ‘Rachel?’ Gladys came in with a candle. She took one look at her. ‘Get off the bed, wench, so I can change it. Danny’s gone to fetch the midwife.’

  Gladys stripped back the bedclothes with their thin, bloody smell. Rachel stood helpless by the bed, a heavy, dragging feeling inside her. She heard the crackle of newspaper: copies of the Birmingham Evening Despatch which Gladys was laying over the mattress.

  ‘I’ve got the water on,’ Gladys was saying, more to herself than anything. ‘Plenty of water . . . Thank the Lord there’s no raids . . .’

  As she moved swiftly round the room arranging things so that they were in place for the birth, they heard footsteps thundering into the house and up the stairs. Danny came charging in.

  ‘Rach – you all right? I’ve been and got the midwife . . .’

  ‘Well, where is she?’ Gladys demanded.

  ‘I told her,’ Danny panted. He stood by the chair and put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder. ‘Then I came back.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Gladys erupted. ‘Go and meet her – the poor wench’ll never find this house on her own in the pitch dark!’

  Danny tore off again. By the time two sets of footsteps were approaching, Rachel was back on the bed on a square of old sheet laid over the crackling newspaper, in the throes of another clamping bout of pain. She knelt, pressing her forehead into the pillow, and try as she could to keep quiet, groans of pain escaped her.

  ‘There you go,’ a brisk voice said beside her as she surfaced. She had not been aware of anyone coming into the room.

  ‘You – off downstairs,’ she heard Gladys saying.

  ‘But Auntie!’ Danny protested.

  ‘This is no place for a lad. Go on – hoppit.’

  ‘How are we doing?’ the voice said again.

  Rachel moaned. ‘All right,’ she managed to say.

  ‘Can you turn on your back for me?’ Things were being brought out of a bag beside her, the midwife putting them on the chest of drawers. ‘I’ll need to have a little look at you.’

  ‘You look young,’ Gladys said. ‘Not much older than her on there.’

  Rachel looked up into a pair of brown, smiling eyes, the face topped by black curly hair.

  ‘I’m Nurse Biggins, student midwife,’ the young woman said. ‘And I’m going to look after you. I don’t think I’ve seen you at the clinic?’

  Rachel was bewildered. What was she talking about?

  ‘No,’ Gladys said quietly.

  ‘How old are you then . . .?’

  ‘Rachel,’ Gladys put in.

  ‘Rachel?’

  ‘Sixteen . . .’

  ‘Ah – I am a little older than you after all,’ she said, smiling.

  Rachel could feel the first rumbles of another pain coming and she drew her legs up and murmured, ‘Oh no . . .’ Surely with it hurting this much there must be something terribly wrong?

  The young woman said, ‘Oh – I see. We’ll wait until that’s over . . . You’ve got water on the boil downstairs?’ she said to Gladys. ‘Thank you – you seem to have done a marvellous job in getting prepared.’

  Once the next pain had passed the midwife examined her. Rachel gasped with shock as Nurse Biggins pressed her fingers up inside her. She had had no idea there would be all this. It would normally have felt very odd and embarrassing but just at the moment she did not really care.

  ‘You’re quite well on,’ the midwife said. ‘Lucky for a first one – it can take a long time. And everything’s looking very normal.’

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea, nurse?’ Gladys asked. There was respect in her voice, awe almost.

  Tea! Rachel thought, outraged as the pain surged through her again. Here she was, in agony, and they were all talking about drinking tea!

  She dozed, and then massive claws of pain would seize her again and she would lift herself onto her knees, groaning and fighting with it.

  ‘That’s it,’ Nurse Biggins kept saying. ‘You’re doing well. Just take nice big breaths, that’s it. Won’t be long now.’

  Gradually she realized a new day had arrived. The sun was shining and it grew hotter. Her whole body was a slick of sweat. Gladys chased flies from the room. Every so often a sound would reach her, the clang of a pail outside, a door shutting or a voice; Gladys and the midwife talking beside her in low voices. At one stage she thought she heard Gladys talking to someone out of the window.

  ‘Danny,’ she murmured. ‘Where’s Danny? I want him.’

  ‘He’s had to go to work, bab,’ Gladys told her. ‘It’s gone ten o’clock, you know.’

  The pain built and built until Nurse Biggins was saying, ‘Come on now, Rachel, you’re almost there – you’re going to have to start pushing the baby out.’

  Suddenly the midwife and Gladys were on each side of her, holding her, and she felt as though she was going to split in half.

  ‘I can’t!’ she wailed. ‘I can’t do it. I want it to stop.’

  ‘It’ll stop,’ the midwife said gently. ‘It’ll stop soon – but you’ve got to get the baby out . . .’

  Rachel’s body was in charge and at last, feeling she was going to crack completely in two, she pushed out her child, a scream coming from her as she did so, however much she did not want it to. It seemed as if the noise was coming from someone else. After the final slither of the body, it was over.

  ‘There!’ Nurse Biggins said.

  But Rachel became aware of a silence that went on. She raised her head and saw the midwife and Gladys leaning over the end of the bed, whispering to each other. She caught a glimpse of Gladys’s expression, her face taut and solemn.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Her voice was high with panic. ‘What’s wrong?’

  A thin wail came from somewhere near her feet and the whole atmosphere in the room relaxed. Gladys’s face lifted, transformed into a smile. Rachel felt the dread inside her seep away and a feeling of exultation take its place. With all of her being she realized she wanted to see her baby.

  ‘There we are!’ Nurse Biggins said, wrapping the baby in the pieces of sheet Gladys had saved. ‘Just had to clear the airways a little bit. You’ve had a lovely little girl – here she is.’

  And a warm, moist shape was laid in her arms, its mouth open to let out a loud, cracked-sounding wail. Through the open window, suddenly, she heard the sounds of cheering and clapping.

  Gladys laughed through her tears. ‘They’ve been waiting for news out there,’ she said. Going to the window she called out, ‘It’s a girl!’ There was more cheering and she returned, smiling, but the tears were still running down her cheeks. ‘Oh, bab, she’s lovely – a perfect little girl! Oh, thank heavens that’s over with! I felt every bit of it with you!’ For a moment she put her hands over her face and sobbed with relief. The sight of Gladys, more emotional than Rachel had ever seen her before, brought tears to her own eyes. Gladys seemed overwhelmed with emotion as she gazed at the squalling new arrival in the family.

  Rachel looked into the now pink, yelling face of her little girl. ‘Hello, Melanie,’ she said.

  ‘Melanie?’ Gladys said, wiping her eyes.

  ‘That’s what Danny and me decided,’ she said. ‘Melanie.’

  ‘That’s pretty,’ the midwife said.

  ‘I s’pose it is,’ Gladys agreed. ‘Very modern.’

  ‘Right – well, I’m going to need the little one back now, to give her her first little wash,’ Nurse Biggins said.

  ‘And I,’ Gladys said, rolling up her sleeves as if to pull herself together, ‘am going to make you another cup of tea.’

  Rachel woke later, feeling movements on the bed. She became aware of her sore body, of something thick tucked between her legs and of a feeling of utter exhaustion. Opening her eyes she found Danny looking down at her, or rather not at her but at something the other side of her on the bed.

  Th
e baby! She half-leapt up, her nerves jangled. ‘Is she all right?’ Melanie had had her first feed and the two of them had then slept and slept.

  ‘Looks all right to me,’ Danny said. On his face was a look of shy wonder. He sat on the bed beside her and she lay back and looked at him, relishing the moment. ‘A little wench then.’

  ‘Melanie,’ Rachel said. ‘Gladys says she looks like you. Don’t wake her, will you?’ she added, as Danny leaned over to look at his little daughter. In his expression she could see a mixture of pride, wonder and fear.

  ‘She’s all right, ain’t she? Auntie’s full of her,’ he said. He looked at Rachel, seeming bashful with her, as if in awe of her. ‘I can’t believe she came from there – inside of you.’

  ‘Oh,’ Rachel laughed, then wished she hadn’t as a twinge of protest went through her muscles. ‘I can!’

  ‘You all right?’ he said.

  ‘Think so. It was hard though. I’m never doing that again.’

  Danny lay back beside her, the other side of her from the baby. His eyes started to close.

  ‘Danny!’ she protested. ‘Don’t just go to sleep on me!’

  ‘I’m done for,’ he murmured. ‘After all I’ve been through today.’

  ‘After all you’ve . . .?’ She turned to look at him and chuckled. ‘I’ll say this for you – I’ve never seen anyone get into their trousers as quick as you did last night!’

  IV

  Twenty-Four

  February 1942

  Rachel was standing by the range in Gladys’s house, Melanie on her hip, stirring a pot of thin soup made of odds and ends of vegetable.

  ‘Well, that’s not going to fatten or feed, is it?’ Gladys had remarked when she came in earlier. ‘I’ll go along to Norris’s and see what he can give me.’

  Rachel had offered to go to the butcher’s for her, but Gladys had just been to the pictures and was in a good mood. She sometimes quite liked to get out and go round the shops, even if it did involve exhausting queuing with ration books.

  It was cold and already dark, the hands of the clock on the mantel crawling towards five o’clock. With the blackout curtains pulled shut, the house felt swathed in darkness. Even so, Rachel sensed the dank of the fog seeping its way in through the cracks in the door and windows. With a big metal spoon in one hand she jiggled Melanie on her other hip, singing, ‘To market, to market to buy a fat pig, home again, home again, jiggety-jig!’ At the last jiggle, Melanie gurgled with pleasure and waved her arms.

  ‘Did you like that, Melly? Auntie will be back soon.’

  Melanie chuckled. She was six months old now and everyone said she was the image of her father. She had Danny’s strong-boned face, his big blue eyes and neat brown cap of hair. She was an easy-going, sweet-natured child who had had her mother’s constant attention and that of Gladys, Danny and lots of other people besides.

  The time ticked by. There was a knock and Dolly’s slim figure came round the door.

  ‘Glad not back yet?’ She came and made a fuss of Melanie, her dark eyes full of affection. ‘Ooh, girls are lovely. Still, I’m not having another just to try for one. Over my dead body – or his!’ She went out laughing. ‘Tell her I popped in – I’ll see her tomorrow.’

  More time passed and Rachel was really beginning to wonder where Gladys had got to when the door opened again. Gladys, swathed in her black coat, hurried in and shut the door to keep the cold out and the light in. For a few moments Rachel didn’t notice the state Gladys was in. She put her bag down and peeled off her coat.

  ‘There’s tea in the pot,’ Rachel said. ‘Those leaves have been round a few times though.’

  Gladys made a weary sound. When she came and sat at the table, Rachel saw that she was very pale in the face and her hands were shaking.

  ‘Auntie? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m all right – don’t mither me,’ she said irritably, seeming almost shamefaced at the state she was in.

  Melanie had dozed off on Rachel’s shoulder. She held the baby with one arm and poured Gladys a cup of tea with the other.

  ‘Ta.’ Gladys grasped the cup with both hands and peered into it. ‘God, look at that maid’s water. I could do with a nip of summat stronger, I can tell you.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Rachel sat down opposite her, cuddling Melanie on her lap. She was startled by the strength of feeling in Gladys. Their conversations were nearly always of a practical nature – food, shopping, what they would take to the market. It was unusual to broach anything emotional.

  Gladys took a deep breath. ‘It’s daft me being so shook up – but it were a close-run thing. I was in Newtown Row, just come out of the butcher’s, finally. We’d been stood there I don’t know how long. And a few of us went to cross the road. It’s a proper pea-souper out there now and dark as pitch, but I looked back and stepped out and – God alone knows where it come from – there was a van, just came out of nowhere. It was just behind me – I mean, I heard the noise and I ran like mad across the road – heaven help me if there’d been summat coming the other way . . . But one of the ladies behind me went under it.’ She shook her head. ‘I heard the breath go out of her.’

  ‘Is she . . .?’ Rachel asked, horrified. ‘I mean – what happened?’

  ‘They called an ambulance,’ Gladys said. ‘Course, they take their time coming in this dark – you can hardly see a hand in front of your face. I didn’t stick around – there was enough of a crowd round her already. But she wasn’t making any noise after it, that I can tell you.’

  ‘Who was she, Auntie? Did you know her?’

  ‘I’d seen her before, in the butcher’s. She’s got a son in the navy, that’s all I know.’ Gladys sat back, shuddering. ‘It just all happened that fast . . . It really shakes you up. Never saw it coming. It just seems . . .’ Rachel was startled to see she was battling tears. ‘All these young lads of ours being killed and Hitler and all these Japs overrunning everywhere . . . Something like this, nothing really to do with the war – it’s just so unnecessary.’

  There was a silence. For a moment Rachel thought Gladys was really going to break down and cry and she was surprised by how much it seemed to have affected her. She was not sure what to say.

  ‘That’s horrible, Auntie,’ she said eventually.

  Gladys tried to rally herself. ‘I’ll just have to thank the good Lord it wasn’t me,’ she said. ‘Though I don’t know what He’s got against that lady – she wasn’t doing any harm. Pass me that bag, Rach – I got some off-the-ration bits. Offal.’

  Rachel groaned slightly.

  ‘You may not like it but it’s good for you,’ Gladys said sternly.

  By the time Danny came home from the markets, blowing on his hands, Gladys appeared back to normal. Seeing him come in, tall and energetic, made Rachel’s day, every day. My husband, my Danny . . . The words ran through her head like a miracle and her heart was beating at the sight of him. She felt her face light into a smile as he came over to kiss her. By now she had laid Melanie down to sleep upstairs.

  ‘How’s my girls?’ he said gruffly as he bent to peck her on the cheek. Rachel smiled. Sometimes there was something about Danny that reminded her of an old man, even though he was still so young. He had grown quickly into being a man, broader in the shoulders and gruffly responsible – except, of course, when he was acting like a big kid with the Morrison boys outside! All Dolly’s lads adored Danny.

  ‘We’re all right,’ she said. ‘She’s been a good girl today.’

  ‘What about you – have you been a good girl?’ he teased.

  ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ Rachel said. ‘What chance do I have to do anything bad anyway?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll soon get your chance,’ Gladys said, from the range, where she had taken over the cooking. The soup had been transformed into a stew now and the smell filled the room, along with boiling cabbage. ‘Once that littl’un’s weaned.’

  They had agreed that once Melanie
could be weaned, Rachel would go back to work.

  She seemed quite confident that she could manage. Gladys loved having a baby in the house and was very good with her. Rachel had been quite surprised by how automatically she seemed to know what to do.

  ‘You’re very good with babies, Auntie,’ she said once, when Melanie was very small. She was such a help and it was reassuring to have her there with advice.

  ‘Ah well, there’s always been babbies around,’ Gladys said, tucking Melanie’s nappy around her as if she had been doing it all her life. ‘I’ve seen Dolly through all hers – and helped look after the little buggers sometimes.’

  Once again, Rachel thought how much better a mother Gladys was to her than her own mother. She trusted Gladys completely. It seemed a sad thing that she had never had any children of her own.

  Over these last six months, Rachel felt she had grown up fast. Melanie was an easy baby. As everyone said, ‘She’s so good. What a lovely babby!’ She did the things everyone seemed to think she should do – she fed well, after the first weeks of fractured sleep she slept well, and she was easy to pacify. She gave every appearance of being a happy little soul and Rachel soon learned the things that every mother needs to know to respond to her baby’s cries and was happy as well.

  However, it was still a shock to realize that she was a married woman and a mother. She was always at home, though she did not miss work all that much. But one day she had particular cause to feel as if she was cut off from things. Her old pal Lilian, who she had barely seen since living with Danny, came round to see her and the baby. Already, when Lilian came bouncing into the house, Rachel began to feel they were growing so far apart as to inhabit different worlds. Lilian was very admiring of Melanie, but she had an announcement to make.

  ‘I’m changing trades!’ she said, beaming. ‘I’m off to work at the Nuffield at Castle Bromwich, doing the rivets on the plane wings – Spitfires!’ She told Rachel that the firm would find them lodgings up there. She was not likely to be around for a bit.