‘Well done, Batty!’ Mabel beamed. The job of decorating the Christmas tree fell to her each year and it was one she thoroughly enjoyed.
The mood in the house improved even more the next morning when Madeline went into the kitchen to tell them, ‘My husband has just informed me that he won’t be here for Christmas, Mrs Batley. Apparently, he has some unfinished business back in Leeds to attend to so he will be leaving the day before Christmas Eve and he won’t be back until the twenty-seventh.’
Mrs Batley kept her eyes fixed firmly on the pastry she was trimming so that Madeline wouldn’t see how happy the news had made her. In truth, the young mistress didn’t actually look too heartbroken about it herself. Perhaps she’d be able to wangle it for Mabel to spend a bit of time with her family on Christmas Day now? If there was only Madeline and Harry to cook for she could easily manage by herself, but she would address that with the mistress nearer to the time.
‘Right you are,’ she answered. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the Christmas dinner. Our old master always liked goose but if there’s something else you’d prefer—’
‘Oh no,’ Madeline said hastily. ‘Just do whatever you normally do, please. I’m sure it will be delicious. As you know, I’m struggling to eat big meals now anyway. I don’t think there’s any room left in here and I feel as if I’m about to pop.’ She grinned as she stroked her stomach.
‘Not long now.’ Mrs Batley smiled. Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘But you’re so close to your time. What if you have the baby while your husband is away? Shouldn’t he perhaps delay going until you’ve safely given birth?’
‘Not at all,’ Madeline said hastily, trying not to show how pleased she was at the news that he was to be away. ‘I’m quite happy for him to go. If anything should happen I know I’ll be in safe hands with you and Mabel.’
The two women exchanged a smile then Madeline waddled away to read her Bible. She was missing going to church enormously, especially now it was nearly Christmas. As she thought back to the Christmases she had spent visiting the poor with her father, a lump formed in her throat. He had been such a kind man. She could clearly remember him taking the boots off his own feet one Christmas Eve and giving them to a youth who was huddled in a shop doorway with nothing more than rags on his back to keep him warm. Another Christmas he had delivered their whole Christmas dinner to a starving family, much to the chagrin of their long-suffering cook, and they themselves had dined on bread and dripping. She hadn’t minded, in fact she had been proud of his kind heart and often she wished that Jacob could be just a little bit more like him.
I must remember to give him his present before he leaves, she thought as she settled in a chair in the day room. She doubted he would have bought her anything but she didn’t care. Perhaps they would be able to have a fire in the dining room on Christmas Day and she would invite the staff to join her at the table. That would be so much nicer than eating alone or having to endure Jacob’s company. Happily, she lifted her Bible and soon she was intent on her reading.
Later that afternoon, Harry delivered the Christmas tree and Madeline watched him set it in a sturdy bucket of earth in the drawing room before Mabel set about decorating it.
‘Wonderful!’ Madeline clapped her hands when it was done, her eyes as bright as a child’s as she and Mabel stood side by side to admire it.
‘The little glass baubles belonged to the old mistress,’ Mabel informed her with a sad smile. ‘Batty told me that the old master bought ’em for her in London shortly after they were married an’ she treasured ’em. They are pretty, though, ain’t they? I always feel a bit nervous when I’m doin’ the tree in case I break one.’
‘They are beautiful,’ Madeline agreed as Jacob strode into the room.
‘Look at the tree, dear. Doesn’t it look pretty?’ Madeline smiled at him but he merely gave it a cursory glance.
‘I find all these festive trimmings rather vulgar.’ As he eyed her coldly, the smile slid from her face. ‘And as the daughter of a vicar I would have thought you would too. Surely Christmas is supposed to be about celebrating the birth of Christ?’
‘Well … yes … Yes, of course it is but …’ Her voice trailed away as he turned and left abruptly. Flushing with embarrassment, she glanced at Mabel apologetically. ‘He’s probably just had a bad day in court. But never mind. I think you’ve done a fine job of it. Thank you, Mabel.’ Then she lifted her skirts and waddled from the room as quickly as she could, clearly upset.
The days rushed past and the day before Christmas Eve, Madeline dutifully pecked her husband’s whiskery cheek as he was about to depart. ‘Merry Christmas, Jacob. I hope you manage to conclude all your business successfully.’ She actually thought it was rather odd that anyone would be working over Christmas but was too astute to say so.
‘Hmm.’ He rammed his hat onto his head and left without another word, throwing his bag into the waiting carriage and clambering in after it as Madeline stood on the step waving.
‘Drive on, Grimes.’
Harry set the horses into a gentle trot and, shivering, Madeline hurried back inside. It had started to snow again and already the roads were white all over. I hope this doesn’t stop the trains from running, she thought as she followed the delicious smells issuing from the kitchen, and instantly felt guilty.
‘Mm, mince pies,’ she said as she saw them cooling on a rack.
Mrs Batley smiled and placed one on a plate for her. ‘Here, try one. There’s plenty more in the oven.’
‘Delicious,’ Madeline told her seconds later as she sprayed crumbs across the table.
Mrs Batley chuckled. The young mistress appeared almost light-hearted and she had an idea it was because the master would be gone for a few days.
She drew in a breath; now seemed as good a time as any to ask. ‘I was thinkin’ …’ she began tentatively, ‘if perhaps we could let Mabel have Christmas Day off to spend wi’ her family? She does so miss ’em at this time o’ year an’ I can manage to cook fer me you an’ Harry wi’ me eyes closed.’
‘Why, of course she must. What a brilliant idea.’ Madeline nodded. ‘And I was thinking that we might all dine together on Christmas Day.’
When Mrs Batley looked uncertain, she rushed on, ‘Oh, please say yes. I shall feel quite lost if I have to have Christmas dinner all on my own.’
‘In that case, it sounds wonderful; we’ll do just that.’ Mrs Batley went back to mixing the sage and onion stuffing she was making to stuff the goose, humming merrily.
Chapter Eight
Harry, Madeline and Mrs Batley had a most enjoyable Christmas Day, although both of the women were thinking of Christmases past. Mrs Batley was remembering old Master Kettle; Madeline was thinking of the ones she had spent with her father; and who knew what Harry was thinking of. His past was still, in the main, a secret although he seemed to enjoy himself. Sadly, Madeline could only pick at the lovely meal Mrs Batley had prepared but Harry did it full justice and even had second helpings of everything, much to the cook’s delight.
Mabel had gone off early on Christmas morning with a spring in her step and a basket heaving with treats for her family. Mrs Batley had bought and cooked a fowl for them out of her own money. She had also sent vegetables, mince pies and a Christmas pudding, so hopefully they would all enjoy their Christmas too. She had been tickled to see how sad Harry had been to see her go and had high hopes that eventually the two would admit their obvious attraction. The trouble was they were both shy with the opposite sex but she hoped this might disappear as they got to know each other a little better.
After dinner, they opened the small gifts they had bought for each other. For Harry, there were two white handkerchiefs, which Mrs Batley had embroidered with his initials in the corner, and there was a warm hand-knitted sweater from Madeline. He was touchingly thrilled with them. For Mrs Batley, there were some lavender bath salts and matching soap from Madeline and a pretty scarf from Harry, which she insist
ed she would keep for best. Harry had also bought Madeline some lovely burgundy gloves to go with the scarf Mrs Batley had given her and she was so touched that she insisted they were the nicest she had ever owned, causing him to flush with pleasure.
After insisting on helping Mrs Batley and Harry with clearing and washing their plates, Madeline then retired for a couple of hours for a rest. She grew very tired now and could hardly wait for the birth to be over. As she was lying down her back began to ache and she commented on it when she went back downstairs in time for tea.
‘I think I must have laid funny,’ she grumbled as she rubbed the base of her back.
Mrs Batley eyed her suspiciously.
Madeline’s backache was worse the next morning and the kindly older woman kept a close eye on her. They were all sitting together in the warm kitchen enjoying a cup of hot milk before retiring when Madeline suddenly started and spilled some of her drink down the bodice of her dress.
‘Ouch!’ Her free hand clutched at her stomach and the colour drained from her face.
‘What is it, pet?’ Mrs Batley was beside her in a second and after a moment Madeline smiled self-consciously.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you but I just had this sharp pain and it caught me unawares.’
‘Hmm, well you just sit there now an’ let’s see if it comes again, eh?’
She was watching her mistress like a hawk and suddenly the younger woman asked, ‘You don’t think this might be the start of the baby coming, do you?’ She had longed to meet her child and yet now she was suddenly afraid.
Mrs Batley patted her hand and chuckled. ‘I think it may well be. Harry, we might need you to go for Mrs Robins soon so get wrapped up warm.’
As Harry gulped, Mrs Batley grinned. If she wasn’t very much mistaken they would be meeting the new arrival very soon but there was no time to ponder, there were things to do.
‘Harry, you go up to the mistress’s room and make the fire up then come down here and get as much water on to heat as you can. I’m going to go up and make sure the crib is ready and get the towels out.’ She patted Madeline’s hand reassuringly. The poor girl had paled to the colour of lint and was clearly afraid of what might lie ahead. ‘Meanwhile, you sit there and keep warm and time how far apart the pains are if you have any more. It might be a false alarm but better safe than sorry, eh? It’s a bitter night an’ wi’ the snow settlin’ it might take Mrs Robins some time to get here, so I ain’t takin’ no chances.’
Twenty minutes later she was back. ‘The pains are coming about every fifteen minutes now,’ Madeline told her.
‘Right then, we’ll wait till they’re a bit closer together afore we send fer Mrs Robins. I believe first babies like to take their time in comin’. Is there anythin’ yer want, lass?’
Madeline shook her head. She looked absolutely terrified. ‘Jacob won’t be very pleased if I have the baby while he’s away,’ she remarked.
‘Huh! Then he shouldn’t have left yer so close to yer time, should he? Now, let’s get you upstairs and changed into your nightgown, eh? You’ll be more comfortable up there.’
Madeline willingly followed her, stopping halfway up the stairs as another pain took her breath away. ‘That must have been ten minutes after the last one, they’re coming closer together now,’ she gasped in a panic.
Mrs Batley helped her to her room and once she was settled on the bed, she fled down the stairs as fast as her feet would take her to tell Harry, ‘You’d best go for Mrs Robins, I think, lad. I don’t want this baby comin’ afore she gets here. Yer know where she lives, don’t yer?’ Over the last couple of weeks she had told him of it often enough.
Harry nodded, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to get to his coat. ‘Aye, I know all right. She’s in Fife Street, ain’t she?’
‘That’s it, now off yer go an’ be as quick as yer can.’
The last sentence was unnecessary as Harry had disappeared through the door before she had chance to finish it.
He arrived back with Mrs Robins almost an hour later and their coats were both white with snow, which began to melt and steam in the heat of the kitchen.
‘Eeh, fancy startin’ on Boxin’ Day, I were just sittin’ by the fire enjoyin’ a nice glass o’ stout wi’ me hubby,’ the elderly woman grumbled as Mrs Batley hurried to help her off with her coat. ‘Still, babies have a habit o’ comin’ when they’re good an’ ready. Now where’s the mum-to-be? I’ll go an’ have a look at her then a nice hot cup o’ tea wouldn’t go amiss.’
Harry hurried over to the sink to fill the kettle while Mrs Robins followed Mrs Batley upstairs.
Madeline was sitting in bed clutching the eiderdown to her chin when they walked into her room. The woman smiled at her. ‘Hello, pet. I’m Mrs Robins. Now, how about yer lie down an’ let me take a look at yer.’
Madeline did as she was told and when the examination was over the midwife told her, ‘Everythin’ is comin’ along nicely but I reckon you’ll be a good few hours yet. Is there anythin’ yer want?’
‘M-my Bible please.’ Madeline pointed to the book on the dressing table and once she had it, she gripped it to her chest and began to pray quietly as the two women went back down to the kitchen to enjoy the tea Harry had brewed for them.
‘I’d like you to stay here, if yer don’t mind,’ Mrs Robins told him. ‘Just in case we need the doctor. Yer never know wi’ first babies an’ her upstairs is only a wee scrap of a thing. Not that I’m envisagin’ any problems, mind,’ she added hastily as Harry’s eyes popped. She chuckled as she shook her head, setting her double chins wobbling. Mrs Robins was a small woman, almost as far round as she was high with greying hair and twinkling blue eyes. Over the years, she had delivered dozens of babies in the town and she was known for liking a tipple and having a very good sense of humour. ‘You men are all the same,’ she said teasingly. ‘You’re keen to be there at the makin’ o’ the babe but not so keen to watch it come into the world. I tell yer, if men had to have the babies the population would die away. Ain’t that right, Enid?’
Harry blinked with surprise. The midwife finished her drink in a long gulp, then wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she heaved herself out of the chair, saying, ‘Right then, let’s go back up an’ have a look how the little lass is progressin’. Can I take it you’ll stay to help if need be, Enid?’
‘Of course,’ Mrs Batley said with a confidence she didn’t feel. She had never attended a birth before but she supposed there was a first time for everything and with her husband being away, Madeline deserved to have a familiar face beside her.
The two women pottered away as Harry settled himself in the fireside chair and prepared for the longest night of his life so far. He wished he could look at the newspaper that was lying on the settle but no one had ever taught him to read and he was too ashamed to ask anyone to teach him.
The night dragged on as the snow continued to fall softly and at last, countless cups of tea later, as dawn was just streaking the sky, Mrs Robins told Madeline, ‘Nearly there now, lass. Now yer must listen an’ do exactly as I tell yer. When the next pain comes push as hard as yer know how, there’s a good girl.’
Madeline barely knew where she was by this stage and lay exhausted against the pillows praying for death. Surely nothing could be worse than this terrible agony? Her hair was plastered to her head with sweat and she felt as weak as a kitten; even so she gathered what little strength she had left and, gripping tight to Mrs Batley’s hand, she did as she was told groaning and whimpering with the effort. Her bottom lip was raw and bleeding from the many times she had bitten down on it to stop herself from screaming and Mrs Batley was full of admiration for her. Most women would have been screaming blue murder but Madeline had been very brave.
‘That’s it … I can see the head now,’ the midwife crowed as the pain died away. ‘Now on the next one let’s have the same again. Push as if yer life depends on it!’
Mrs Batley wat
ched her young mistress’s face closely as she lifted her head and pushed again and suddenly a tiny body seemed to almost explode from her body to lie in a bloody heap between her legs.
Mrs Robins lifted the child and slapped its rounded little backside soundly and suddenly the room echoed with the sounds of an indignant newborn cry.
‘Well done. You’ve got yourself a little daughter an’ a right bonny little lass she is an’ all,’ she cried triumphantly as she hastily wrapped the babe in the towel that Mrs Batley held ready for her and passed the child to her.
‘Eeh, she’s beautiful.’ Mrs Batley was overcome with emotion as she stared down at the precious bundle in her arms, tears pouring unashamedly down her cheeks. ‘An’ she’s got your red hair an’ all, pet. An’ blue eyes, I reckon, though I’m sure I can see a hint o’ green in ’em.’ She was suddenly painfully aware of what she had missed by never becoming a mother herself. It hadn’t been for the lack of trying. She and her late husband had dreamed of having a houseful of babies when they were first wed but it had never happened for them.
‘All new baby’s eyes are blue, they’ll most likely change,’ Mrs Robins informed her as she hung over the new mother with a frown on her face. Madeline was barely conscious and there was a terrifyingly blue tinge about her lips as her eyes began to roll back in her head. She was also bleeding profusely. Grabbing a towel, the midwife attempted to stem the flow as she suddenly hissed urgently, ‘Take the child away an’ bathe it an’ get Harry to run fer the doctor quick as he knows how! There’s somethin’ badly amiss here.’
Mrs Batley had to force herself to stay calm as she hurried away as fast as she could. Oh, dear God don’t let anything happen to the poor lass now, she silently prayed as she negotiated the stairs.
Harry was off like a whippet when she told him that the doctor was needed and once he had gone she busied herself with bathing the child. Sometime later, clad in one of the tiny nightgowns her mother had painstakingly stitched for her, and swaddled in the shawl Mrs Batley had knitted, she looked like a little angel.
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