A Nurse's Courage

by Maggie Holt

  When at last he took his lips from hers to let them both draw breath, she whispered his name: ‘Stephen, Stephen.’ For a moment, for just one moment of madness she experienced a wave of desire such as she had never known before. She trembled in his arms as they clung together, hearing each other’s heartbeats, conscious of nothing else. The world stood still and for the length of that moment out of time Stephen Knowles was all she knew: he was her life, he was everything.

  And then the real world returned with all its duties and responsibilities. What had seemed like an eternity had been less than half a minute. Staff Nurse Court remembered where she was.

  ‘I must go,’ she said.

  ‘But you won’t leave me, Mabel?’

  ‘You must let me go – now, this minute.’

  ‘You’ll see me again tomorrow?’

  ‘Let me go. I must see to Tess – and all the other children.’

  So he had no choice but to release her.

  When the sun rose at the end of that fateful night on Mary Ward, little Tess Graves had turned the corner in her fight with the poisons of diphtheria. Allowed to breathe freely again and aided by rest and nourishment, the following day brought unmistakable improvement in her condition, and at the end of a week her mother’s firm prediction of recovery was seen to be justified. Although strict bedrest had to continue because of the possible after-effects, Tess Graves would not die: her life had been saved by the emergency tracheotomy performed by Dr Knowles.

  But Mabel Court had to escape from him. She knew that the moment of revelation in the kitchen of Mary Ward would stay with her for ever: she would always remember his arms around her, his body against hers, his kiss: a kiss to drown in. Stephen, Stephen . . .

  But he was a married man with a newly born child, and she was committed to Harry Drover who had loved her faithfully for seven years, even though broken in mind and body by the war. So she would have to separate herself from Stephen Knowles; if she stayed she would be unable to resist her own heart’s longing, and would betray all her lifelong beliefs and principles.

  So she had to leave the hospital she had come to love and look upon as home. There was simply no other way.

  Part Two

  Women Alone

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘BUT WHY, NURSE Court? I simply fail to understand,’ said Matron Rowe, shaking her grey head in bewilderment. ‘You’ve shown yourself to be an excellent children’s nurse in every respect. Why, only last week Dr Dunn told me he would support your early promotion to a Sister’s post. Are you not happy here?’

  ‘It isn’t that, Matron. I’ve been very happy here,’ replied Mabel wretchedly.

  ‘Then why –’ Miss Rowe hesitated, and then her features softened beneath her tall lace cap. She leaned across her desk towards Mabel, speaking as one woman to another. ‘There must be a reason for this sudden decision on your part, Nurse Court. Is it something personal, my dear? Can you confide in me?’

  Mabel had to fight back tears, for she did indeed long to tell Matron that her heart was breaking; but to mention a doctor’s name in connection with her departure was of course out of the question. She swallowed and cleared her throat.

  ‘I – I’d like to be nearer to my fiancé, Matron, Captain Drover o’ the Salvation Army,’ she faltered. ‘He lives in Battersea, and he’s a – an invalid. He lost an arm at the Somme.’

  ‘My dear Nurse Court, I’m very sorry.’

  ‘An’ I – I thought I’d better get some more midwifery experience in,’ Mabel added lamely, thinking of Maud and her promise to keep a close eye on her.

  ‘But Nurse Court, you are such an outstanding children’s nurse and I really don’t see why you need to be a midwife.’ Miss Rowe paused and looked at Mabel’s set face, stonily resolved. ‘However, if you have made up your mind, I will of course give you a good reference, though I deeply regret losing your skills as a sick children’s nurse. Very well, you may go.’

  ‘Oh, Mabel, no! There’s no need for you to leave the hospital!’ cried Violet Stoke-Marriner.

  ‘There’s no alternative,’ Mabel almost snapped back. ‘If I’d paid more attention to what yer said in the first place, I might not be in this – this – what d’ye call it now.’

  ‘You don’t mean that Dr Knowles – that he’s made some kind of – that he’s said anything untoward?’ gasped Violet.

  ‘Yes – that’s about the long an’ short of it. An’ if I stay here, there’s no tellin’ where it’d end.’

  ‘Mabel!’

  ‘Please, Violet, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say ye’ve been proved right, and I’ve been a complete and utter fool.’

  ‘But Mabel, whatever will you do? Where will you go?’ wailed her friend.

  ‘I’ve got me midwifery certificate from Booth Street, an’ thought I’d apply for a district job for a change – get away from hospitals for a bit.’

  ‘Oh, I’m just so sorry, Mabel – more than I can say.’ It gave Violet no pleasure at all to have her warning vindicated.

  It was Doris Drover, of all people, who pointed Mabel in the direction she was to take. It had been difficult telling the Drovers that she had given in her notice at the East London, and when they heard that she was thinking of applying to the LCC, Doris remarked that there was a need for a reliable midwife in Kennington. ‘Some sober, respectable woman prepared to be on call round the clock, to get up an’ go out in the night to a poor woman labourin’ in pain, whether she can afford to pay or not. I wonder you don’t go for good work like that, Mabel.’

  Kennington: it was within easy cycling distance of both Harry Drover and Maud Ling. Mabel decided to call on Ruby Swayne to ask if there was in fact such a need for a midwife there.

  ‘Oh, there certainly is, Mabel. There’ve been some shockin’ cases o’ women givin’ birth with only neighbours to help them, and some old handywoman turnin’ up with a stained apron to see to the baby. Why, are yer lookin’ for a job, then? I thought yer were so well settled at Shadwell.’

  If anybody else says that I think I shall scream out loud, thought Mabel; but she composed herself and considered what Harry’s sister had just told her.

  ‘I wonder what sort of accommodation the LCC provides for its district nurses,’ she said.

  ‘The last one lived in her own house, but her relief used to lodge with the dressmaker on Kennington Park Road – a poor widow who was glad of the extra money.’

  They both sat in silence for a minute, drinking the tea that Ruby had brewed. Mabel contemplated lodging with a stranger, having to tiptoe up and down stairs when she went out to cases in the night; Ruby was thinking of the last girl she had sheltered for the Salvation Army, who had repaid her hospitality by absconding in the night with the contents of Ruby’s purse.

  They both looked up and began to speak in unison.

  ‘Ruby, would yer fancy takin’ a lodger who had to work all hours –?’

  ‘Mabel, if ye’re thinkin’ o’ takin’ on the job o’ midwife in Kennington, what about –?’

  They both stopped speaking and stared at each other, then exclaimed together, ‘Yes!’

  And so it was settled; the application to the LCC was duly made and accepted, and Mabel prepared to move into the home of the woman who was to have been her sister-in-law.

  ‘I don’t know why ye’re leavin’ the East London, Mabel, and I won’t pry into what isn’t my business,’ said Ruby in her direct way, ‘but it’ll be good for us all to have yer here. Life hasn’t been much for the boys since we’ve been on our own.’

  Which proves that it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good, thought Mabel as she worked out her month’s notice on Mary Ward, thankful to be hidden away from the nurses’ home and staff dining-room where she might meet Knowles, and also be subjected to a barrage of questions from her colleagues.

  Her last day arrived and she ordered a taxicab to transport her few belongings to number 3 Deacon’s Walk on the Friday before she was due
to take up her post on the Monday, October the eighth. A letter from Aunt Nell suggested that she take a holiday at Belhampton before beginning her new job on the district, but Mabel wanted to get started on it straight away, rather than spend her time brooding over her situation and trying to evade her aunts’ questions. Aunt Kate had responded with a generous cheque towards the inevitable expenses of the change and Mabel put it to good use at the cycle store on the Brixton Road.

  Ruby and the boys exclaimed when they saw the brand-new bicycle with a basket attached to the handlebars in front, and a rear bracket for her midwifery bag. Lights with batteries were an additional purchase, and the boys’ eyes gleamed as Mabel mounted and pedalled along the Brixton Road in the Saturday traffic, not that there was much of it: a few horse-drawn carts and the trams. She wobbled a little at first, but the skill soon returned, with an exhilarating sense of freedom.

  ‘Can I have a go, Miss Court?’ asked Matthew longingly and, when they were back in Deacon’s Walk where few vehicles appeared, Mabel let Matthew climb up on the saddle and try his skill at keeping upright.

  ‘And please call me Aunt Mabel,’ she told the boys. She was beginning to realise that life with the Swaynes would have its compensations; for one thing Ruby understood only too well the situation with Harry, his gradual decline into further dependence, though Mrs Drover continued to pray for his recovery and restoration to active membership of the Salvation Army.

  They were all invited to tea at Falcon Terrace on that first Sunday afternoon, and afterwards Mabel accompanied the family to a meeting of prayer and worship at the Citadel. Harry clung to her hand when she kissed him goodnight, and slowly, painfully stammered that he would see her more often now that she lived with Ruby and the boys.

  This, then, was to be her life for the foreseeable future, she thought. She must not look back to the past and especially she must not think about him. The Lord had directed her to this new line of duty, and she must give it all her skill and energy.

  And it began sooner than expected.

  Ruby was making cocoa at twenty to ten that night, when a hammering at the front door made them all jump. ‘It’s the police, missus, an’ we want the midwife!’ roared a male voice.

  Ruby unlocked the door, to reveal a burly police constable on the step.

  ‘Mrs Thornton’s started,’ he informed her. ‘Haberdasher’s in Brixton Road, the husband’s goin’ frantic. Can’t track down ol’ Mrs Cummings, an’ some woman said there was a midwife here. So can yer come? It’s her third.’

  Mabel felt her knees go weak. To be called out in the dark to a woman she had never met and whose history she did not know . . .

  ‘Yes, o’ course, I’m the midwife, an’ I’ll come straight away,’ she said, catching Ruby’s eye and nodding quickly. ‘Just let me get me bag – me bicycle’s in the shed – an’ me hat an’ coat.’

  ‘I’m on me bike, so I can show yer the way,’ said the policeman, clearly relieved at having run her to earth.

  ‘I’ll say a prayer for you an’ the mother an’ child,’ whispered Ruby as Mabel left the house.

  Cycling along beside the policeman down the Kennington Road, past the headquarters of the Waifs and Strays Society, into Kennington Park Road and round into Brixton Road with its closed shopfronts and no street lighting, Mabel also prayed that the delivery might be normal and straightforward.

  When they reached the shop, Mr Thornton was waiting at the door. ‘Thank God ye’re here, nurse – our neighbour’s with her and thinks it won’t be long.’

  Mrs Thornton lay in their double bed, hanging on grimly to the brass rails behind her. A heavily built woman stood over her with her sleeves rolled up. She eyed Mabel doubtfully.

  ‘We was expectin’ Mrs Cummin’s.’

  Mabel pulled off her coat, put her bag on the dressing-table and advanced to the bedside.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Thornton, I’m Nurse Court, yer midwife,’ she said with a smile. The mother stifled another cry of pain as Mabel drew back the sheet and put a light hand on the board-hard abdomen. ‘All right, dear, I’m here to look after yer. Is there some hot water ready, Mrs – er –?’ she asked the big woman. ‘And is there a washing bowl to use before I examine her?’

  The neighbour was politely put in her place and her services engaged as assistant. To Mabel’s great relief, the internal examination revealed that the cervix was fully dilated – a gush of cloudy water followed the withdrawal of her two probing fingers.

  ‘Very good! Not long to go now,’ she assured the mother. ‘Come on, me dear, let me help yer to sit up, put yer hands behind yer knees – like this – and as soon as yer feel the pain comin’ on, take a big breath in an’ hold it – that’s right – hold yer breath an’ push – push – push – push – push! Good girl, that’s the way to do it!’

  The midwife’s air of friendly authority gave new confidence to Mrs Thornton and she duly pushed with all her strength – to be rewarded by the birth of a baby girl less than ten minutes later. Mabel received the child’s slippery little body into her hands and, as the piercing cry of a newborn baby filled the room, she felt again the sense of witnessing a miracle, that wonderful moment when the pain of childbirth turns to joy at the sight and sound of a new human being.

  ‘Ye’ve got a girl, a dear little girl, Mrs Thornton! Just listen to her – isn’t she beautiful? D’ye want to hold her?’

  The afterbirth quickly followed and Mabel asked the neighbour who was wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron if she could make tea for them all. ‘What are yer goin’ to call her, Mrs Thornton?’

  ‘Little Margaret, that’s her name,’ whispered the mother, gazing down at her baby. ‘Can me husband see her, nurse?’

  Mr Thornton was duly summoned, and a wide-eyed little boy and girl were brought in to see their new sister. Mabel’s heart swelled with thankfulness to be part of this family event, sharing in their relief and joy. Even the belligerent neighbour had been won over and nodded her approval over the strong, sweet tea she had brewed.

  When Mabel took her leave at nearly midnight, Mrs Thornton had given baby Margaret her first breastfeed, and the two other children were asleep.

  Mr Thornton was overwhelmed with gratitude for his wife’s safe delivery. ‘We can never thank yer enough, Nurse Court,’ he said as Mabel mounted her bicycle, feeling something like happiness again; certainly it was satisfaction. Her new job had started well.

  And so it was to continue. Pedalling through dark October nights and morning mists, the tang of autumn in the air and the pavements slippery with fallen leaves, Mabel took pleasure from getting to know her mothers and their families, the smiling faces of the older children and the proud grandmothers. As the weeks passed, local doctors recognised her as a trustworthy professional woman, even though young, unmarried and without the personal experience of childbirth that many women considered a necessary qualification.

  The growing closeness between herself and Ruby Swayne helped to ease Mabel’s relationship with the family, especially with Mrs Drover who came to realise that Mabel had no intention of coming between her and her son. Sometimes Mabel joined the Drovers and Ruth at a prayer and praise meeting, though she always had to leave a message to inform callers where she could be found. Matthew and Mark were very useful as messengers in this respect, and she soon became a familiar part of their lives, a friendly aunt whose work took her out at highly unusual times to do all sorts of mysterious things in other people’s houses. They began to take a pride in the fact that Nurse Court actually lived with them: it gave them a sense of importance, in contrast to the absence of their father who was far away in a place they could not bring themselves to name.

  Forbidden love might be banished, but duty was always there to be done and had its sunny side. Time, Mabel told herself, would cure a broken heart, whether hers or somebody else’s.

  And, of course, there was Maudie, now within easy cycling distance down the South Lambeth Road, and happily claimed as a booked pa
tient of Nurse Court’s.

  ‘Are yer gettin’ enough rest, Maud?’ Mabel enquired, her eyes appraising her friend, now at three months. She was definitely looking better, her skin was clearer and her eyes brightened whenever Mabel appeared at her lodgings.

  ‘Makes a difference, knowin’ ye’re me own midwife, an’ goin’ to take care of Alex’s baby,’ she said trustfully. ‘Makes it seem all official, like.’

  ‘Yes, an’ ye’d better do as ye’re told, or yer midwife’ll give yer a right dressin’ down,’ Mabel answered. ‘And I’m not jokin’, Maud. Have yer got yerself a doctor?’

  ‘Yeah, Dr Swift, lives up the posh end o’ Souf Lambeff Road, by Park Mansions. Alex bin payin’ ’im sixpence a week for Teddy an’ me to be on ’is panel. But I won’t need a doctor for this, will I? I got you!’

  ‘Yer never know, Maud, I tell all me mothers to get a doctor, just in case,’ said Mabel lightly, not wanting to go into any details about obstructed labour, haemorrhage or her own greatest dread, a limp and silent ‘blue baby’. She wrote down Dr Swift’s name on Maud’s record card.

  ‘I know I’ll be all right wiv you, gal. An’ Teddy’ll come an’ fetch yer, ’e’s a good lad.’ There was a calm, confident look on Maud’s pretty face, and Mabel felt less anxious about her now, but still wished she would tell Redfern of her condition.

  ‘I’ll maybe tell ’im next time ’e turns up,’ said Maud, a saucy smile curving her lips. ‘Tell ’im ’e’s got to go a bit more careful now!’

  And there was Norah. The Midway was out of Mabel’s district, but well within pedalling distance, and with the freedom she now enjoyed, away from the constrictions of hospital life and the tyranny of forever reporting on duty, she was sometimes able to drop in on Sister Norah and her brood. Mrs Spearmann told them that there were plans to pull down the Midway after the war and build a better home in healthier surroundings, but at present it seemed as if the war was never going to end. A fearful rout of Allied troops in northern Italy had resulted in further long lists of dead and wounded, and Mabel was thankful that Stephen Knowles was out of it, though she caught herself up sharply as the man’s name flashed into her head. Neither of her friends had the slightest idea of the real reason why she had left Shadwell.