The Wartime Midwives

by Daisy Styles

  ‘Jeannie!’ she gasped.

  ‘Darling girl! How are you?’

  At which point Isla burst into tears.

  ‘Jeannie!’ she wailed. ‘I’ve got myself into terrible trouble!’

  At the end of her distraught granddaughter’s outpourings, Jeannie spoke firmly but gently. ‘They’re not going to take it well, Isla, darling.’

  ‘I know,’ Isla gulped. ‘It will destroy them,’ she added in despair.

  ‘It will hit Eustace hardest,’ Jeannie added with a touch of scorn in her voice. ‘Him being such an upright member of the Morningside community.’

  ‘Do you think Mummy might support me?’ Isla asked nervously.

  The silence that followed answered her question.

  ‘She’ll do as your father says,’ Jeannie finally said. ‘My advice is to tell them soon, rather than have them find out for themselves.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Isla responded feebly. ‘I’m so frightened,’ she said, stifling a sob.

  ‘Brace yourself, child,’ Jeannie said robustly. ‘It’s not going to be easy, but remember you’ve got me: I’ll always be there for you, Isla, I hope you know that.’

  Her tender words made Isla start to cry all over again. ‘Oh, Jeannie!’ she wailed. ‘Why can’t I come to you and hide away from the world?’

  ‘Darling, you know you can always come to me, but right now, out of respect to your parents, you must tell them the truth.’

  Isla dumbly nodded.

  ‘Tell them how you were seduced by an older man, your professor, who wilfully exploited your innocence and abused your trust.’

  Isla began to breathe more easily: her grandmother’s words made sense. She had been exploited; surely her parents would understand that and help her through this nightmare time?

  Jeannie had been perfectly accurate when she’d told Isla that telling her parents she was pregnant was not going to be easy. After she’d poured out the terrible story, there were several long, agonizing minutes of uncomfortable silence in which Isla looked from her stony-faced father to her trembling mother, before her father spoke in a tone of voice Isla had never heard him use before. ‘I think you had better leave this house.’

  Isla had gazed at him in dumb disbelief. ‘Daddy! No, please, no,’ she gasped. Turning to her mother who was sitting beside her father on the sofa, she cried, ‘Mummy! Help me.’

  Mrs Ross looked from her husband, whose face had turned almost grey, to her daughter. Rising, she walked to the door and held it wide open.

  ‘You heard what your father said – leave.’

  In a state of profound shock, Isla would never have got out of the house without the assistance of Peggy, who’d overheard the conversation and helped to pack Isla’s bags before bracing herself for the conversation to come.

  ‘Come along, Miss: you’ve got to pull yourself together.’

  Isla gulped as she held back her tears. ‘It’s just the shock,’ she cried. ‘When I told the man who got me pregnant, he threw me out, and now my parents have thrown me out too.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but you’d better get used to it, Miss,’ Peggy said realistically. ‘Now what are you going to do?’ she persisted.

  Isla stared blankly at Peggy, who, with the house to clean, was beginning to panic.

  ‘Are you going to keep it?’ Peggy asked point blank. ‘Or shall we go somewhere where you can get rid of it?’

  It was the first time that Isla had really considered the child that she was carrying. Thinking about the tiny being she had created, a totally unexpected spark of protection flared inside her.

  ‘I don’t want an abortion, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘You’re clear about that, Miss?’ Peggy persisted.

  Isla nodded her head. ‘I don’t want to get rid of it.’

  ‘Right, so where are you going to go, Miss? Clearly, you’re not welcome in your own home.’

  Isla didn’t have to think twice. ‘I’ll go to Jeannie’s!’

  Looking hugely relieved, Peggy nodded. ‘I’m sure your grannie will help; you’ve always been close, you two.’

  A faint smile of hope played on Isla’s soft, pink lips, ‘I’ll go to Windermere,’ she announced. ‘Everything will be all right when I’m with Jeannie.’

  5. Shirley

  Shirley’s recovery was slow and her stitches caused her huge discomfort; she was, however, forced from her bed on the post-natal ward by Matron, who was keen to see the girl vacate the Home. The sooner Shirley was gone from Mary Vale, the sooner her place could be offered to another client, hopefully one with money who would pay for her stay, instead of a scrounger who seemed determined not to leave.

  Though no longer on the ward and always fearful of Matron catching sight of her, Shirley often slipped into the prep room or the sluice room for a chat with Sister Ann, whom she sought out like a child seeks out its mother. It was in this semi-maternal role that Sister Ann gently explained all the changes that were going on in Shirley’s body.

  ‘Your stitches are healing nicely and your milk’s drying up too.’

  ‘Is that because of the pills you gave me?’ Shirley asked.

  Sister Ann nodded. ‘Your breasts won’t feel quite so tender any more; you’ll be back to normal in no time,’ she assured the edgy girl.

  ‘I don’t want to be back to normal, Sister Ann!’ Shirley blurted out. ‘Normal means I’ll be sent back home, when I’d rather stay here.’

  ‘I understand, child,’ Sister Ann told her. ‘We’ll keep you for as long as we can string it out, but you have to understand that the Home has rules, and one of them is that you must vacate your place so someone else can fill it.’

  Poor Shirley nodded, but her huge, dark eyes filled up with tears as she thought of what she was going back to. Her father had never been an affectionate man, but at least he’d never laid a hand on his daughter. It was when he’d died and her mother had quickly remarried that fourteen-year-old Shirley’s life changed very much for the worse; from that moment on she never knew a minute’s peace. It started with her drunken stepfather touching her only when her mother was out of the house, but, as his brutish desires increased, he had started to seek Shirley out while her mother was downstairs cooking or cleaning. Shirley’s cries of pain and protest were stifled by her stepfather’s big, dirty hand, which he clamped over her mouth until he’d sated himself. Shirley couldn’t understand why her mother never came looking for her: what did she think she was doing upstairs for so long? But, as the abuse continued with even more hideous frequency, she reached the horrifying conclusion that her mother was somehow complicit; either too frightened of her thuggish husband to protest, or, worse, perhaps she was relieved that her new husband’s voracious and distasteful appetite was being fulfilled elsewhere.

  When Shirley’s shame reached a peak the day she discovered her stepfather had made her pregnant, she hoped her mother would do what a mother should. But that was not to be either: there was no support from her mother. Instead, she had sided completely with her new husband, outraged by her daughter’s shameful condition. She had literally thrown her into the street, cursing her daughter for her loose ways, even though they both knew who the father of Shirley’s child really was and that she’d had no choice in the matter whatsoever. If it hadn’t been for her local priest, whom she’d turned to in desperation, Shirley was convinced she would have died on the streets where she’d been dumped. The priest, who knew Shirley from her regular attendance at Mass and Communion, had pulled a few strings and found her a place at Mary Vale, where Shirley had met the kindest people she’d ever known in her life.

  Dragging her mind back to the here and now, Shirley dumbly said, ‘Thank you, Sister Ann, I’ll always be grateful for my time at Mary Vale.’

  Seeing her pain, the nun clasped the tearful girl in her arms. ‘We’ll pray for you, Shirley, dear, God will guide us.’

  Nobody could fail to notice Shirley’s complete lack of interest in her new-born daug
hter, who still didn’t have a name. Ada watched Shirley progress through the nursery, glancing into all the little white canvas cots as she did so, but when it came to her own child Shirley scooted past as if she were frightened of seeing her daughter. Catching her in the act one day, Ada drew Shirley aside.

  ‘Your little girl needs a name, Shirley,’ she reminded the new mother, who shrugged.

  Staring moodily at the floor, she blurted out in an emotional rush, ‘I don’t care! She reminds me of him and what he done to me.’

  Ada completely understood Shirley’s reaction – who would want to be reminded on a daily basis of their rapist? However, she knew from her own professional experience that it was important psychologically for Shirley to talk about her feelings, rather than pretend she hadn’t given birth and that her baby didn’t exist.

  ‘Shirley, it’s not the child’s fault,’ she said gently. ‘She didn’t ask to be born –’

  Shirley angrily interrupted her: ‘And I didn’t ask to be raped!’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry,’ Ada apologized.

  Shirley’s bottom lip quivered. ‘If I look at her, you might go thinking I want her, and I don’t.’

  Ada shook her head. ‘I would never try to change your mind, Shirley,’ she said gently. ‘I know you want to have your baby adopted and I agree with you: it is the best option for her. All I’m saying is please don’t ignore her. You carried her, gave birth to her, and you’ve decided to give her away – all these things happened to you and you must acknowledge them. Right?’

  She waited for Shirley to reply, which she did with difficulty. ‘Right,’ she agreed, then quickly turned to go. ‘You give her a name, Sister,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I ain’t got none for ’er.’

  Ada and Sister Ann gave Shirley’s daughter a grand name: Elizabeth Rose (after the royal princesses), but in no time at all everybody was calling the little mite Lizzie, which suited her far better. Shirley made no comment about her daughter’s name, though Ada was relieved to see her casting a cautious glance at her sleeping baby as she hurried through the nursery one afternoon. Ada smiled; at least her message had got through.

  6. The Plan

  One night, after a long shift, Ada and Sister Ann sat at the scrubbed wooden trestle table in the convent kitchen waiting for the saucepan of milk they’d put on the hob to boil. Sitting opposite one another, they were both worrying about the same issue. Sister Ann spoke up first; sighing heavily, she said, ‘Honest to God, nobody in their right mind would let a young girl go back to a home like the one she’s got.’

  ‘I agree!’ Ada cried in sheer frustration. ‘But what can we do, Sister? Shirley’s not fee-paying – she has to go when her time’s up.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ Sister Ann said with uncharacteristic impatience. ‘I’ve been racking my brains and I think I’ve found a way around the problem.’

  Ada raised her beautifully arched eyebrows. ‘Oh?’ she said and waited for an explanation.

  The nun pulled her chair closer to Ada and whispered conspiratorially, ‘I’ll pay for Shirley to stay on here myself.’

  ‘YOU!’ gasped Ada.

  Sister Ann nodded quickly. ‘A bit of extra time with us will do the child no harm.’

  ‘But you’re a nun, as poor as a church mouse!’ Ada exclaimed.

  ‘For the love of God, keep your voice down,’ Sister Ann begged, as she looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘I’ve saved a bit of money.’

  Ada couldn’t help but smile. ‘How come you’ve got money to spare?’ she teased. ‘You took a vow of poverty,’ she reminded her flustered friend.

  ‘Poverty, chastity and obedience,’ Sister Ann reminded Ada in turn, when they spotted that the saucepan of milk was just about to boil over. Quickly adding the milk to the cocoa powder in the mugs standing by the range, Ada returned to the table with the hot drinks.

  ‘But we’re allowed to keep some money for necessary bits and bobs,’ Sister Ann said with a guilty smile. ‘And it’s enough to pay for a month or so longer.’

  Ada smiled softly. ‘You’re a saint,’ she said fondly.

  ‘Rubbish, I’m a sinner and well you know it!’ Sister Ann exclaimed. Ada looked thoughtful. ‘Anything that gives Shirley extra time I would fully support. In fact,’ she added impulsively. ‘I’ll donate to the Shirley fund too!’

  Sister Ann looked concerned. ‘You mustn’t leave yourself short, Ada, dear.’

  ‘I think it’s safe to say a nurse earns a little bit more than a nun,’ Ada joked.

  The two women took sips from their mugs, then Sister Ann continued, ‘I’ve been asking around schools and convents in the area,’ she told Ada. ‘Inquiring about whether there might be work available for Shirley. I told them that she’s a willing girl, a good girl, prepared to do anything from washing up to chopping wood or cleaning windows.’

  ‘Any luck?’ Ada inquired.

  Ann wearily shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she sighed, as she rubbed her tired eyes. ‘The problem is, Shirley’s young, innumerate and illiterate; the child’s hardly been to school.’

  ‘Well, that’s hardly surprising, given her hideous domestic circumstances,’ Ada pointed out.

  ‘It’s not going to be easy,’ Sister Ann admitted. ‘But I have to keep on trying. I’m going to write to everybody, far and wide – maybe you will too, Ada?’

  Ada nodded her head. ‘I’ll do everything I can to help Shirley, for sure.’

  Sister Ann carefully laid down her mug. ‘So, I was wondering,’ she started nervously, ‘if you could offer my money – our money,’ she hastily corrected herself, ‘to Father Benedict, tell him it’s to cover Shirley’s extended stay?’

  ‘ME?’ gasped Ada.

  ‘It would be nice to have someone who’s laity involved in the arrangement,’ Sister Ann explained.

  Ada smiled. ‘Of course, Sister, I’ll see to it.’

  ‘Thanks be to God!’ the nun said with a heartfelt smile. ‘We have a plan to save Shirley, at least for now.’

  The two women parted with a hug, Sister Ann heading into the convent while Ada made her way towards the staff-accommodation quarters. When she passed the statue of Our Lady in the corridor, which separated the secular from laity, out of habit Ada made the sign of the cross and prayed for Shirley and her tiny scrap of a daughter.

  Ada wasted no time in telling Father Benedict that she and Sister Ann had sourced some extra funds and could therefore extend Shirley’s stay a little. Looking visibly relieved, Father Ben beamed at Ada. ‘That’s a huge relief, I’ve been praying the good Lord would keep her safe.’ Taking a deep breath, he continued, ‘Now I have good news for you.’

  Ada eagerly sat forward in her chair.

  ‘A childless couple from Skipton who have been looking to adopt for some time have expressed interest in Shirley’s little girl.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Father!’ Ada exclaimed in delight. ‘By the way, she has a name now: she’s called Elizabeth Rose,’ she added with a fond smile. ‘But everybody calls her Lizzie.’

  Father Ben gave an approving smile. ‘Well, now, with God’s help, Lizzie might soon be with a kind, childless couple who, I am sure, will give her a happy future and a loving home.’ He paused, then continued somewhat anxiously, ‘It’s just occurred to me, Sister, now that Shirley’s going to be in the Home a bit longer, she may well witness her baby leaving Mary Vale with her new parents. Will that be a problem for her?’

  ‘I don’t think you need worry on that count, Father,’ Ada confidently assured him. ‘Sadly, Shirley’s never bonded with Lizzie and she’s always been adamant about having her adopted – if I’m perfectly frank, I think Shirley will be hugely relieved to see Lizzie go to a good home.’

  Father Ben smiled. ‘Well, that’s good to know. I’ll post off the adoption papers right away.’

  With a new name and the possibility of new parents, Lizzie, who was much petted and cuddled by the girls in the nursery (especially by Nancy, who felt sorry f
or the poor little mite), seemed to flourish. By contrast, Shirley, not yet aware that her days at Mary Vale were to be extended, lost the little appetite she had and couldn’t sleep.

  ‘We need to put the poor girl out of her misery,’ Sister Ann declared once Ada had cleared the new arrangement with Father Ben.

  ‘No time like the present,’ said Ada with an excited smile.

  They found poor Shirley curled up on her narrow single bed.

  ‘Child!’ Sister Ann cried. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  Sitting on one side of the bed while Ada sat on the other, Sister Ann raised Shirley into a sitting position.

  ‘We have good news,’ she announced.

  Accustomed to nothing but bad news, Shirley barely looked up.

  ‘Shirley, dear,’ Ada continued softly, ‘we’ve put together sufficient funds to keep you here at Mary Vale for a bit longer.’

  Unable to take in the astonishing news, Shirley could only stare at both Ada and Sister Ann in dumb disbelief.

  Taking hold of Shirley’s cold hand, Sister Ann rubbed it warm. ‘Didn’t we promise we’d do what we could to help you?’ She smiled.

  The shock and delight combined with the overwhelming sense of relief that coursed through her body made Shirley crumple with sheer joy.

  ‘Thank you, oh, thank you, thank you!’ she cried, as she threw herself into Sister Ann’s open arms.