The Clippie Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  At the kindness in his tone, the tears spilled over. Laurence fished in his pocket for a clean, white handkerchief and passed it to her. She mopped her face, aware that the canteen staff were watching them, yet trying to look as if they weren’t.

  Shakily Mary said, ‘How silly of me. I’m not normally the weepy sort.’

  ‘You’re having a very trying time. We all are, but you have an extra burden to bear now. What’s this about Peggy keeping to her room?’

  ‘It’s my mother. When – when we first found out about Peggy being pregnant, Mother threatened to throw her out. If she had, I’d have gone too. I have to stand by her, Laurence – sorry, Mr Bower—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he reassured her swiftly, ‘there’s no one to overhear. Though,’ he added in an attempt to lighten her mood, ‘we are getting one or two inquisitive looks from the staff. But never mind them – go on.’

  ‘She relented enough to say Peggy can stay, but she won’t speak to her or even have her in the same room. And Rose is as bad.’

  ‘Oh dear, I am sorry.’

  Mary blew her nose and promised to launder and return his handkerchief. Laurence shrugged as if it was of no matter.

  ‘And I’m sorry to burden you with my worries when you have enough of your own.’ Hastily, for fear he should think Peggy had betrayed his confidence, she added, ‘With all the responsibility you shoulder at work.’

  ‘Mm.’ Laurence met her gaze and appeared to be considering something. At last, he said softly, ‘I don’t expect Peggy told you because I know how discreet she is, but I have two sons both serving in the forces.’ He went on to tell Mary exactly what he’d told Peggy, but tactfully Mary didn’t display any foreknowledge.

  ‘How dreadful for you to have no one at home to share your worries,’ Mary said sympathetically. It was common knowledge that Laurence was a widower.

  He smiled and murmured, ‘It is hard, but now perhaps I could talk to you sometimes.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And don’t you be afraid to ask me if there’s any way in which I can help. Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’ Suddenly Mary didn’t feel so lonely any more.

  It was whilst they were out walking one evening at the beginning of June that Peggy felt the first signs of labour pain.

  ‘We must get you home,’ Mary said anxiously, but Peggy was doubled over with a spasm.

  ‘You all right, lass?’ A man’s voice came out of the darkness. Mary’s heart sank for she recognized the voice: Tom Bradshaw. He was the last man on earth she’d have wished to encounter just at this moment. Now Letty would soon know and the news would spread up and down the street like wildfire. But beggars can’t be choosers, she thought, and they needed help. He was a strong, well-built man and could probably have carried the heavily pregnant Peggy all the way home if necessary. But all the girl needed was a strong arm.

  Tom, it seemed, had summed up the situation quickly. ‘Here, love, lean on me. Going to the hospital, is she?’

  ‘No, no, we need to get back home.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Want me to get the midwife for you, Mrs Sylvester?’

  ‘No, no – I . . .’ What on earth was she thinking? Word would be out soon enough now, if it wasn’t already. Her daughter needed help and they needed to call the midwife quickly. Mary took a deep breath. ‘That’s kind of you, Mr Bradshaw, but I’ll send one of the girls.’

  He nodded. ‘Time you called me “Tom”, I reckon, don’t you? We’ve lived next door to one another long enough now and shared some scary moments just lately.’

  Whilst Grace had held all her neighbours at arm’s length, the war had pushed them closer together and now her family was going to need all the friends they could get. Whilst she feared that Letty would revel in the telling of Peggy Sylvester’s downfall, Mary was not one to reject kindness. And Tom Bradshaw was being kind.

  They arrived at the front door of their home and he insisted on helping Peggy into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom.

  ‘There, lass, you lie there and your mam’ll send one of your sisters for t’midwife.’

  As Mary went downstairs with Tom, he paused at the front door. ‘Mary, lass – I can call you Mary, can’t I? – you don’t need to worry about me telling t’wife about this.’ He smiled. ‘Letty’s a grand lass and a good wife and mother, but I know she likes to be the first with a juicy bit of gossip. But not this time.’ He put his forefinger to his lips. ‘She’ll not hear this from me, though I am afraid it’ll get out soon enough.’

  ‘It will, Tom, but thank you. You’ve been very kind.’

  ‘If you do need any more help, just knock on our door. Promise me now?’

  Mary nodded, her eyes filling with tears at his unexpected thoughtfulness.

  Once she had let him out of the front door again and drawn the blackout curtain, she hurried through to the living room. ‘Rose – go to the phone box’ – she scrabbled in her handbag to find a piece of paper on which she’d written the midwife’s name, address and telephone number – ‘we need the midwife right now.’

  She held out the paper, but when Rose made no move to get up, Mary said impatiently, ‘Rose – did you hear me? We need the midwife. Peggy’s gone into labour.’

  Slowly Rose looked up from the book she was reading. ‘She got herself into this mess without my help, she can deal with it herself now.’

  Mary stared at her, appalled by her daughter’s callousness. Myrtle, sitting at the table with her homework, was wide-eyed. ‘Is the baby coming, Mam?’

  ‘Yes, yes. We must get the midwife.’

  Rose dropped her eyes and pretended to carry on reading her book, though her heart was thumping.

  Myrtle jumped up and held out her hand for the piece of paper. ‘I’ll go. I’ll need some money though, Mam.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Sorry.’ Again, Mary delved into her handbag and brought out a handful of change. ‘There, that should be enough.’

  Myrtle rushed out of the back door; it was quicker than fighting with the blackout curtain over the front door. They heard her footsteps pounding across the small back yard and then the crash of the back gate. Mary was still staring at Rose’s bowed head as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Quietly she said, ‘I’m ashamed of you, Rose.’ Then she turned and hurried back upstairs to Peggy.

  In the living room, the silence grew heavier between Rose and her grandmother. The girl’s face had flamed red with shame and even the older woman was silently struggling with her own mixed emotions. Upstairs her great-grandchild was about to come into the world and yet she could not bring herself to make it welcome.

  Myrtle arrived back breathless and anxious. ‘Her husband says she’s out on another call and he doesn’t know when she’ll be back. Gran, what shall I do?’

  ‘Go upstairs and tell your mother. She might have the name of someone else.’

  Myrtle ran upstairs, two steps at a time, and burst into the bedroom her mother and Peggy shared. She stopped in the doorway, shocked by the scene before her. Peggy was writing in agony on the bed, her knees pulled up, her legs spread apart. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.

  ‘The baby’s coming so fast. How long will she be, Myrtle?’

  ‘She’s out and her husband doesn’t know when she’ll be back.’

  Peggy threw back her head in a yowl of pain and fear.

  ‘Did you leave a message? Did you tell him it was urgent?’

  Myrtle nodded, but her gaze was riveted on her sister. ‘What can I do to help, Mam?’

  ‘Go round to the Bradshaws—’

  ‘The Bradshaws!’ Even at this moment, Myrtle was surprised. Surely, her mother didn’t really want any member of that family here at a time like this?

  ‘Ask for Mr Bradshaw. He helped us home just now. He’ll help us.’

  ‘Right,’ Myrtle said and ran downstairs again, through the living room towards the back door.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Rose aske
d.

  ‘As if you care,’ Myrtle shot back at her, but she kept on moving, through the kitchen and out of the back door again.

  As a loud scream sounded above them, both Rose and Grace glanced at the ceiling and then at each other.

  Myrtle was back in minutes, followed by Tom and Letty Bradshaw. Grace raised her eyebrows, but said nothing as Myrtle led the two of them up the stairs. ‘I’ve had five myself,’ Letty was saying, ‘there’s nowt to it.’

  But when she entered the bedroom and saw Peggy’s agony, even Letty Bradshaw paled. ‘Oh lor’. Tom – ’ she grasped her husband’s arm – ‘you’d better get an ambulance. I can’t cope wi’ this.’

  Tom lumbered down the stairs again and out of the front door, leaving the curtain undrawn and the door wide open in his haste.

  ‘Oi,’ came the familiar shout from the local air-raid precautions warden who, as luck would have it, was walking down the street, pushing his bicycle. ‘What about that light, Tom Bradshaw?’

  Now Tom had no choice but to let the world know what was happening inside his neighbour’s house. ‘Lass is having a bairn and it don’t look too good. Midwife’s not available and we need an ambulance.’

  ‘Right, then,’ Joe Bentley said. ‘You get off to the phone box. I’ll see to the light.’

  As Tom ran up the road, the warden approached the Booth household. He stepped inside, closed the front door and pulled the curtain across the door. Opening the door into the living room, he was surprised to see two women sitting there, reading quietly as if nothing was happening. Even he could now hear the screaming from upstairs.

  ‘Need any help? Tom’s gone to phone for an ambulance, but he’d left the door wide open and a light showing.’

  The older woman looked up. ‘Going to fine us, are you, Mr Bentley?’

  Joe Bentley shook his head but pursed his lips as he said, ‘Not on this occasion, Mrs Booth – in the circumstances. But just mind you’re more careful in future.’

  As a piercing scream sounded again Joe Bentley winced, but the two women just carried on reading. He turned away, shaking his head as he made his way back through the hall and let himself out of the house.

  ‘There’s nowt so queer as folk,’ he muttered to himself.

  He waited outside the house until he saw Tom hurrying back up the street.

  ‘There’s – no ambulance – for about – half an hour,’ Tom panted as he reached Joe. ‘I don’t reckon that lass’s chances, or the bairn’s, if she doesn’t get some proper help real quick.’

  Whilst the two men stood helplessly outside the house, wondering what more they could do, upstairs Letty had taken charge. ‘Myrtle love, go downstairs and get the kettle and some pans of water boiling. Now, Peggy, prop yourself up. Breathe in and out steadily, lass, it’ll help with the pain.’

  ‘Mam, oh, Mam, it hurts so . . . Aaah.’

  ‘It’s a big baby,’ Letty whispered to Mary, ‘that’s ’er trouble. She’s going to be torn summat terrible if that midwife or t’ambulance don’t come quickly. Go down and see if Tom’s come back.’

  Mary found the two men still standing outside the house.

  ‘Tom, did you get an ambulance?’

  ‘It’ll be half an hour at least, lass.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Mary breathed. ‘She’s in so much pain and Letty thinks the baby’s getting distressed too. Whatever are we going to do?’

  ‘Letty will know what to do, love,’ Tom tried to reassure Mary, but in truth he was not feeling so confident inside. His wife could deal with straightforward births – none better – but get a bit of a complication, then Letty wasn’t qualified.

  ‘D’you want us to fetch anyone else, Mrs Sylvester?’ Joe enquired.

  Mary shook her head helplessly. ‘I don’t know who to fetch.’

  ‘A doctor, maybe?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Right, I’ll go and see ’f I can knock one up.’ Joe reached for his bicycle and was soon pedalling up the street.

  ‘I must get back. See if there’s anything I can do,’ Mary murmured.

  ‘You do that, love, but I’ll be right here if you want owt doing.’

  ‘Thank you, Tom.’

  ‘Think nowt on it, lass. Now off you go.’

  When Mary hurried back upstairs and opened the bedroom door, it was to hear Letty encouraging Peggy to relax and breathe deeply. Then her glance went beyond the writhing figure to the far side of the bed. Myrtle was standing there, holding her sister’s hand and repeating every word that Letty said. But in the young girl’s voice there was the tone of authority.

  ‘Come on, Peggy, try to do what Mrs Bradshaw’s telling you. The baby can’t get out if you’re all tensed up and you’re making the pain worse. Breathe deeply in – out – in – out. And try to relax your whole body. That’s better.’ Myrtle glanced up. ‘Is that right, Mrs Bradshaw?’

  Letty nodded. ‘You carry on, lass. She’s takin’ more notice of you.’

  Mary moved closer to the bed. ‘Is there anything I can do, Mrs Bradshaw?’

  ‘I reckon it’s high time you called me Letty, don’t you?’ She paused and then added pointedly, ‘Mary?’

  Mary smiled weakly. ‘Yes. And I’m very grateful to you – Letty.’

  Letty turned her attention back to Peggy. ‘Do you feel the urge to push, love?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Peggy wailed. ‘It hurts so.’

  Letty spread the girl’s legs wide apart. ‘Try a little push – just a gentle one. That’s it. Head’s showing. Now pant.’

  Peggy began to breathe deeply again.

  ‘No, no, Peg,’ Myrtle said. ‘Pant. Like this.’ And she demonstrated, sounding just like someone who’d run a mile.

  But Peggy threw back her head and screamed, making no effort to do what she was being told.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Mary wrung her hands and tears filled her eyes. ‘Whatever are we to do? If only someone would come.’

  Above the noise her sister was making, Myrtle spoke sternly. ‘You can stop that noise right now, Peg. Pant, can’t you?’

  Peggy stopped her wailing and glanced at her younger sister in amazement, but as another strong contraction gripped her, she opened her mouth to scream.

  ‘Push, lass,’ Letty instructed.

  Peggy gritted her teeth and grew redder in the face as now she tried to follow Letty’s instructions.

  ‘You’re doing well, but you’ve got to take your time, else you’ll be torn.’

  ‘I just want it out,’ Peggy squealed.

  ‘You’ve got to think of the baby,’ Letty said.

  ‘I don’t care about the baby,’ Peggy screamed. ‘I don’t care if it dies, I just want it all over with.’

  Shocked, Mary, Letty and Myrtle exchanged horrified glances.

  Myrtle looked down at her sister and said, ‘I won’t hear such talk, Peggy. This little baby deserves a life just like anyone else. Now do what you’re told and get a move on. Poor little thing must be fed up of being in there.’ She glanced across at Letty. ‘When should she push?’

  ‘When she feels a contraction coming. Here, lass, put your hand on her stomach, you can feel the muscles start to tighten. That’s when there’s a contraction coming.’

  ‘Yes, oh yes – ’ Myrtle’s face lit up – ‘I can feel it. Oh, isn’t it wonderful?’

  Peggy groaned and wriggled. ‘Not from where I am. Oh – oh–’

  ‘Now push, Peggy,’ Myrtle instructed.

  Peggy bent her chin to her chest, gripped her thighs with both her hands and strained to expel the baby from her. She grew red in the face.

  ‘The head’s come out,’ Myrtle shouted triumphantly. ‘Oh, I wonder what it is?’

  ‘It’ll not be a boy,’ Mary murmured, watching everything that was going on, but not required to do anything. ‘We’re a family of women.’ Then she added again, this time with a wistful note of longing, ‘It’ll not be a boy.’

  Peggy drew in a deep breath and with one long, draw
n-out growl pushed the baby into Myrtle’s waiting hands.

  ‘Oh, oh, look, Mam, it’s a boy. It is a boy.’

  ‘What?’ Mary moved to the bedside now and looked down at the tiny baby with something akin to wonderment on her face. ‘Oh, Peggy – it is a boy. How wonderful!’

  Wryly Peggy said, ‘Boy or not, he’s still a little bastard.’

  The baby lay still, not moving and making no sound.

  Myrtle bit her lip. ‘Shouldn’t he be crying?’

  Now Letty stood helplessly by the bed. ‘I don’t know what to do now, Mary. I’ve never had to go any further than actually seeing it born. There’s always been a midwife there by now.’

  ‘It says in the books,’ Myrtle said, ‘that if they don’t cry, you have to hold them up by the ankles and slap them to make them breathe. Peggy—’

  ‘Leave it,’ Peggy said weakly. ‘It’d be for the best.’

  Myrtle looked to her mother for help, but Mary was just gazing down at the child as if turned to stone.

  Gently, even though the child was still attached to the mother by the umbilical cord, Myrtle picked him up by his ankles and smacked him sharply on his tiny little bottom. When he did not respond she repeated the action. To both Mary and Letty, who were holding their breath, it seemed a miracle when the infant let out a thin, almost disgruntled wail.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ Mary said. Amazingly, both Mary and Letty seemed to be looking to Myrtle to take the lead.

  ‘I know you have to cut the cord and then the afterbirth has to come away,’ Myrtle said.

  ‘But how – what do we do?’

  ‘I – don’t know.’ Now even Myrtle was at the end of her book learning.

  They stood helpless at the bedside, more urgently in need of qualified help than before.

  Thirty-Four

  Tom waited alone, pacing up and down in agitation. Even out here in the street, he could hear the poor girl’s screams coming from the back bedroom. ‘We’re going to lose ’em both at this rate,’ he muttered, anguished and feeling so helpless.

  He heard the swishing of bicycle wheels and turned to see Joe careering down the street towards him. Tom raised his voice, not able to bear waiting even another minute. ‘Any luck?’