by Annie Lyons
“Oh, Dor, I don’t know how to tell you.”
Panic rose in Eudora’s chest. “Tell me what, Sylvia? What’s the matter? Is there something wrong with Philip?”
Sylvia shook her head rapidly. “No, he’s fine. Sorry, I shouldn’t have scared you like that. The thing is, Dor, Ken has been offered a new position in the company.”
“But that’s marvelous,” said Eudora. “He really will be running the company soon.”
Sylvia gave a weak smile. “They want him to open up a new office.”
“Oh. Where?” asked Eudora, willing her to say Scotland.
“Canada.”
“Canada?”
Sylvia nodded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“And he’s definitely going to take it?”
“I think so. It would be a very good career move. And Canada is so beautiful.”
“It’s so far away, Sylvia,” said Eudora, a sob catching in her throat.
“I know.” Sylvia nodded as they both started to cry.
Philip stared at them with huge, questioning eyes. Eudora pulled him to her and kissed his head. “It’s all right, little man. I’ll come and visit you. I promise,” she said, unsure as to whether this would even be possible.
“And we can write,” said Sylvia, trying to sound hopeful.
“We won’t lose touch,” said Eudora. “We’ll always be there for each other. Whatever happens.”
Eudora returned home heavy with sorrow. They had tried to make the best of it, to tell each other that nothing would change, but it was all lies. The lies you tell to make yourself feel better. As she neared the house, Eudora noticed a policeman walking toward her: a constable, barely older than her. He was staring up at the rows of terraced houses, trying to read the numbers.
“May I help you?” she asked as they met by her own front gate.
“No, thank you, Miss,” he said, touching the peak of his helmet. “This is the one I’m looking for.”
“But this is my house,” she said in alarm.
The police constable blushed, his eyes wide in an expression that reminded her of Philip. “Oh, well. Could I speak to your father, please?”
“He’s dead,” she told him.
“I’m sorry. Your mother?”
“She’s . . .” Eudora’s voice trailed away. “You’d better come inside.”
“Thank you.”
Eudora opened the front door to the sound of music playing and knitting needles clacking. A good sign. “Mum? There’s someone to see you.” She led the policeman into the lounge, where Beatrice was knitting by the fire, a cup of tea at her side. She looked up and smiled, the picture of contentment. Eudora would often wonder afterward if this was the last time she ever saw her like that.
The policeman took off his helmet and cleared his throat. “Mrs. Honeysett? I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”
Beatrice looked from Eudora to the policeman and back again, as if trying to work out what on earth could be the matter given that her eldest daughter was present and correct. “What is it?” she demanded with a hint of irritation.
“It’s your daughter, Stella. I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
“Dora?” cried Beatrice in alarm, reaching out for her daughter.
“It’s all right, Mum, I’m here,” said Eudora, turning to the policeman. “What kind of accident? Is she okay? What about the baby?”
“What baby?” cried Beatrice.
Eudora squeezed her mother’s hands. “What’s happened?” she asked the constable.
The policeman’s face was ghostly. Eudora wondered if this was the first time he’d ever had to deliver news like this. “I’m sorry to say that she had a fall down some stairs and unfortunately she sustained fatal injuries.”
“She’s dead,” said Eudora.
The policeman nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“She’s dead,” repeated Eudora. “And her baby?”
The policeman shook his head again. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened? Why did she fall? How did it happen?”
The policeman shifted uncomfortably. “She was pushed.”
“By her husband,” said Eudora. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
He gave the briefest of nods. “He’s in custody. I’m very sorry. Please accept my condolences.”
Eudora could remember everything that happened that day up until this point, but what followed remained a blur. She probably made some tea, tried to comfort her mother, eventually prepared a meal, but she couldn’t remember any of this. All she knew was that she had never felt so lonely, so wretched, or so guilty in her entire life. You made your choices and you had to live with them. And Eudora knew, from that moment onward, that the choice she’d made would haunt her until the day she died.
Chapter 14
“Eudora? Eudora, did you hear me? We need your help. The baby’s coming.”
Eudora is jolted back to the present, but the tang of the past lingers like sour milk. “I can’t.”
Rose blinks. Once. Twice. Eudora can see that the threat of tears is imminent. “But there’s nobody else. You’re the only one I can ask.”
A shutter-click memory of a desperate plea from the past rattles her.
You’re the only one.
Eudora does her best to banish it. “Wouldn’t it be best to phone the emergency services?”
Rose shakes her head. “Mum doesn’t do hospitals. We’ve called Beth, the midwife, but she’s not going to get here for another half hour and Mum says the baby’s coming now.” Eudora hesitates. Rose touches her on the arm. “Please, Eudora.”
Eudora stares past Rose. “I’m too old for this.”
“And I’m too young.”
They stare at each other in a moment of mutual, ageless understanding.
We’re the same, you and me. The helpless ones. And we must stick together.
“Fetch me my stick, please.”
Rose moves quickly and without any of her usual chirpiness. “Here you go,” she says. “Now, please don’t think I’m being rude, but we need to get back to Mum. She’s making a terrible noise and I don’t think she should be on her own.”
“Of course. Yes. Come along.” Eudora follows behind Rose, doing her best to hurry. She is pleased to note that she no longer feels tired. Adrenaline is a powerful thing. “Where’s your father?” she asks as they enter Rose’s house to be greeted by what sounds like an animal keening. Eudora’s heart quickens.
“On his way back from somewhere or other. I can’t remember the name. I’m giving him half-hourly updates.”
Rose leads her down the hall into the lounge. Maggie has her back to them. She is standing with arms and legs wide, like a human star, bracing herself against the wall, puffing in and out. She takes a deep breath before emitting a low, steady roar. Eudora finds herself unable to do anything but stare.
“Mummy? Are you okay?” asks Rose, fear edging her voice.
Eudora realizes that she needs to take charge but remains paralyzed with fear.
“S’okay, s’okay, Rose,” says Maggie, glancing over her shoulder. “The baby’s coming and I need to push when I get the contraction.” She breathes. Maggie winces as another contraction arrives. She screws up her face as she pushes and bellows again.
“Eudora?” says Rose in a small voice, eyes pleading and desperate. “Please help her.”
Tentatively, Eudora reaches out and touches Maggie lightly on the shoulder. She responds by turning to face her and grasping her hand. Her touch is cool but strong. It emboldens Eudora.
“I’m here,” she says. “And so is Rose. Everything is going to be fine. You’re doing very well.” She hopes this is true. Please let this baby be all right. Please let her be all right.
Maggie nods rapidly.
“Rose, I think we could do with some towels. As many as you can find, please. And do you remember how I taught you to boil the kettle? Could you do that too?”
&nbs
p; “Aye, aye, captain,” says Rose, back to her old self. She dashes out the door. “I remember this bit from episodes of Call the Midwife. I’m glad you’re here, Eudora. I was getting a bit scared.”
Eudora looks into Maggie’s eyes and squeezes her hand. “She’ll be fine. And you will too.”
Rose returns moments later with half a dozen towels, just as Maggie stops puffing again and begins to push and roar anew. “Is Mummy okay?” asks Rose, her face pale.
“She’s fine,” says Eudora, sending up a fresh prayer. “But we have to support her. I need you to put down some of the towels so she can stand on them. And then you hold her other hand so she knows you’re here.”
Maggie moves onto the towels, which Rose has placed on the floor. She takes Rose’s hand and kisses it. “Don’t be scared. I know what I’m doing. I remember it from when you arrived in the world. I love you and I’m glad you’re here.”
“I love you too, Mummy,” says Rose, tears forming in her eyes as her mother pushes again.
Eudora watches with horrified fascination as the top of the baby’s head appears. “Is that . . . ?” begins Rose, gaping at Eudora.
Eudora nods, all fear elbowed out of the way by new life. “Your sister is coming, Rose. All right, Maggie? You’re doing very well. Keep going.”
Maggie is puffing and nodding. “This time,” she breathes. “I think it will be this time.”
“Okay, Rose,” says Eudora. “You keep holding your mother’s hand and I will be ready with the towel to take the baby.”
“Like in rugby when the ball pops out of the scrum?” asks Rose, eyes wide and eager.
Eudora gives her an encouraging smile. “If you like.” She notices Maggie screw her eyes tightly shut. “Come on, Maggie. You can do this,” she says, holding out a fresh, clean towel.
“Yes, Mummy, you can do it!” cries Rose.
Maggie lets out the roar of women the world over, announcing new life, new hope—a gift to the universe. Eudora accepts the gift, a tiny, bloody form, sticky and perfect. As Maggie lowers herself to the floor, Eudora wraps this new being in the towel, gently wiping her nose and mouth. The baby replies with a piercing cry as if announcing herself to the assembled company.
“I hope she’s not going to do that all the time,” says Rose.
They laugh as Eudora hands over the precious parcel to her mother. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Really, Eudora. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“It was all down to you, Maggie. You were magnificent,” she tells her with a shiver of admiration.
There’s an urgent knock at the door. Rose runs off to answer it, returning moments later with a cheery, bustling lady. “Now then. I hear someone has delivered their baby all by themselves,” she says. “Congratulations.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Eudora and Rose,” says Maggie.
“Well done. Both of you,” says the woman. “I’m Beth. Sorry I missed all the fun. Now, Rose, would you like to cut your sister’s cord?”
“Okay,” says Rose. “We boiled some hot water. Do you need it?”
“You’re amazing,” says Beth. “Take me to the kitchen and I will sort everything.”
Rose leads her away. Eudora is left watching Maggie nurse her new daughter.
“She’s perfect,” says Eudora, admiring the baby’s delicate features.
“Thank you,” says Maggie.
“I’ve decided I want to be a midwife when I grow up,” says Rose, returning with Beth. “I already have experience, and Beth says that bringing new life into the world is the best job there is.”
“It’s true,” says Beth, as she sets about clamping the cord so Rose can cut it. “Here you go, Rose,” she adds, handing her the scissors.
“I declare this cord cut!” cries Rose. Everyone laughs.
“Excellent work,” says Beth. “And now I need to check your mum over and help her deliver the placenta. Would you like to watch?”
“Ew, no, sounds disgusting,” says Rose.
Beth laughs. “Perhaps this job isn’t for you after all. Could you and Eudora look after your baby sister for me while I do that, please?”
“Of course,” says Rose. “Although it might be better if Eudora holds her.”
“All right,” says Beth. “Why don’t you sit on the sofa in there,” she suggests, pointing toward the room next door.
Eudora does as she says, and Rose settles next to her. Beth places the baby, who has drifted off to sleep, in Eudora’s arms.
“Hello, Daisy,” says Rose. “I’m your big sister, Rose. And this is my best friend, Eudora.” Her words wrap themselves around Eudora’s heart as she looks down at the world’s newest inhabitant. “She doesn’t do much, does she?” says Rose.
Eudora laughs. “True, but it won’t be long before she’s running rings ’round you.”
Rose shrugs “I’ll have to come to your house if she gets annoying.” Rose leaps to her feet. The baby’s eyes snap open. “I forgot to call Daddy!” she cries. “Back in a sec.”
Eudora and the baby eye each other. “That’s your sister,” she tells her. “She never stops moving. I know you’re going to have a lot of fun with her. You’re a very lucky girl. Please be kind to her always. Don’t treat her like Stella treated me.”
The baby gives a small squeak as if she understands and continues to gaze up at her. Eudora knows that babies can’t focus at this age, but there’s something about the way Daisy’s eyes travel over her face, as if she’s drinking her in, studying her soul. That gaze is like a blessing to Eudora, reminding her of a time when she could have helped another mother and child but didn’t. This time she did help. It’s only when she notices a tear land on Daisy’s cheek that she realizes she’s crying.
Eudora takes her leave when Rob returns, despite Rose begging her to stay and celebrate.
“We’re going to wet the baby’s head or something,” she says.
“Thank you, but I’m going to go home. I’m rather tired after all this drama,” she tells her. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Rose,” warns her father.
“Eudora doesn’t mind. She likes it,” says Rose.
Eudora doesn’t contradict her. “I daresay.” She smiles at the brand-new family of four. “Congratulations. She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” says Rose, who is nestled very close to her mother and sister on the sofa now.
Rob walks Eudora to the front door. “Are you sure you’ll be all right from here?” he jokes.
Eudora smiles. “Take care of them.”
“I will.” He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you for being there. You saved the day.”
Eudora holds his gaze for a moment. “It was a privilege.”
She experiences that same light-headed feeling as she retreats back to her house. It’s all the excitement, she tells herself, all that adrenaline coursing ’round my body. Eudora is exhausted but knows she won’t be able to fall asleep for a while. She makes some tea and settles once again in her armchair. She looks around the room, as if searching for someone with whom to share the wonderful news. Montgomery sleeps, oblivious, on the sofa.
“Well, you’re not much use,” she says. She glances at the phone and a thought enters her mind. Would it be too late to call? She’s not sure if the number is a home or work one but decides to try all the same.
She hears a long, steady ring, followed by another and another. She is about to give up when a voice answers.
“Konrad?”
“Is that Petra?”
“Yes. Is that Eudora?”
“How did you know?”
“I recognize your voice. Plus, I don’t get many calls from English people at home.”
“Is this a good time?”
“Oh yes, of course. I told you to call anytime and I’m very glad you did. I am pleasantly surprised, as you like to say.”
Eudora is drawn
in by the warmth in her voice. It makes her want to tell Petra everything. “I wanted to share some good news.”
“Oh yes?”
“Yes. My neighbor, Rose? Her mother had a baby. And I helped deliver her.”
“Oh, Eudora. That’s wonderful. I know it’s not your baby, but I congratulate you. And to help deliver the child. That must have been incredible.”
“It was like a miracle, Petra.”
“The miracle of life, right?”
The pause says everything. “Yes. Yes, it was exactly that.”
“I am glad you called to tell me this, Eudora. You sound so happy.”
Another pause, this time as the idea sinks in. “I am.” She would like to tell Petra her truth, to share the story of her sister and the baby who died because of her, of how Daisy’s birth feels like an absolution. She will always carry the guilt, but its burden has lightened somehow.
“Thank you, Eudora.”
“For what?”
“For calling. I am honored that you wanted to share this news with me.”
“Thank you, Petra.”
“Take care of yourself, Eudora.”
“You too.”
Eudora decides it really is time for bed now. The cat follows her upstairs, and as soon as she is in bed, he leaps up and settles by her feet. Eudora is surprised. He is a habitual night prowler and a prodigious mouser. However, she finds his gentle breathing to be a welcome presence as she drifts off into an unusually easy and deep sleep.
1961
Edenham Crematorium, South-East London
The chapel building looked resplendent in the midmorning autumn sunshine, its tower cloaked in a thick layer of blood-red ivy. Eudora shivered at the sight of it, pulling her collar up around her throat, quickening her pace as the sky darkened and sharp darts of rain began to fall. The priest greeted her in the doorway with a cursory nod. He was a serious, distracted-looking individual, who had been more than a little offhand when they met to discuss the arrangements. Eudora supposed he didn’t relish having to deal with a woman, but then she didn’t relish having to arrange her twenty-one-year-old sister’s funeral. Life was unfair sometimes.