The Wartime Midwives

by Daisy Styles

  ‘Let’s do it together,’ said Gloria, as she took out the reading flash cards. ‘And Robin, not so fast, please.’

  School took on a whole new meaning with Shirley’s arrival. Robin loved her company and Gloria enjoyed teaching the shy girl, who was an eager learner and, once she’d become accustomed to the alphabet, quickly linked the letters to make words, and in no time at all she was reading.

  At the end of the week Gloria congratulated her new student on her rapid progress. ‘You’re doing really well.’

  Shirley positively glowed with pleasure. ‘I’m loving it, Gloria,’ she confessed. Smiling, she turned to bright-eyed Robin. ‘And I’m loving being with Robin,’ she said with genuine affection.

  The little boy beamed proudly. ‘I’m a good learner, Mummy. Shirley can spell CAT!’

  22. Bertie

  A few days after Daphne’s departure a letter arrived for her friends.

  Dear Gels,

  Just wondered if any of you poor things has given birth since I left? Life back home is worse than I feared. I was hoping to gallop off and escape the dreaded parents, but, after struggling to mount Hermione, my favourite mare, I realized that the old whatsit down below needed a bit more recovery time.

  All the girls burst out laughing.

  ‘She’s irrepressible,’ giggled Isla.

  ‘Never changes,’ Gloria said fondly.

  I can muck out and groom the horses – Lord knows, I need the exercise – but that’s my lot for the moment; at least it gets me out of the draughty old wreck of the so-called stately home we were cursed to inherit. Hope you’re keeping an eye on the boy – that’s if he’s still with you? He might well have left Mary Vale for pastures new. Good luck to him I say!’

  After reading the letter, Gloria, who’d been so involved in Bertie’s birth and had grown fond of him, popped into the nursery to see how he was so she could write back to Gloria with the latest news. However, when she arrived there she was puzzled to find Bertie’s cot empty.

  Seeing Shirley wiping down the windowsills with what smelt like strong disinfectant, Gloria frowned.

  ‘Morning, Shirley. Where’s Bertie?’

  ‘I’m not sure, Gloria,’ Shirley replied. ‘Maybe Ada’s got him.’

  Not having the time to search further, Gloria turned to go.

  ‘Will you be joining us later for lessons?’ she asked Shirley.

  ‘Of course, Miss Teacher,’ Shirley joked. ‘Highlight of my day.’

  Promising herself that she’d pop back and see Daphne’s baby later on, Gloria set off for the dining room to find Robin.

  In point of fact, Gloria was not the only one looking for Bertie. Ada was also puzzled when she turned up for duty on the ward and found him absent.

  ‘Where is he?’ she asked Sister Ann, who had been helping the girls on the feeding rota in the nursery.

  ‘He wasn’t in his cot when I arrived on duty either,’ she remembered. ‘Maybe Matron’s taken it upon herself to move him,’ she suggested drily.

  ‘I’ll see if I can track her down,’ Ada volunteered.

  She found Matron making herself a pot of tea in the little staff kitchen just off the ward.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Ada said with a polite smile. ‘Do you happen to know where Bertie might be?’

  Turning towards her ward nurse with a tight smile on her face, Matron answered casually, ‘Oh, he’s gone.’

  Dumbfounded, Ada stared at her. ‘Gone where?’ she demanded.

  ‘To his parents, his adoptive parents,’ Matron replied. ‘It was rather hurried,’ she admitted, as she popped a tea cosy over the pot of tea she’d just brewed. ‘They arrived late last night and were quite insistent about returning home right away. I telephoned Sir Percival, who was kind enough to drive over with the adoption papers that he’d organized and had signed by Daphne Wallace’s father before the girl left.’

  Ada couldn’t believe she was hearing right. ‘We are normally informed and given time to get the baby ready.’

  ‘Yes, but in this case, as I’ve already said, the parents arrived sooner than expected and simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. I could hardly inform you in the middle of the night,’ Matron reasoned. ‘I don’t quite see what all the fuss is about, Sister.’

  Before red-faced Ada could open her mouth to protest further, Matron picked up her tray and brushed past. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.’

  For a few seconds after she’d gone, Ada could only stare incredulously after her.

  ‘The damn cheek of the woman!’ she fumed, as she stood in the corridor, where Sister Ann found her looking hot and bothered. ‘You’ll never believe what Matron’s gone and done with Bertie,’ she all but exploded.

  After she’d told her friend of Bertie’s hasty departure, the nun looked saddened. ‘When Father Ben was in charge, we nearly always had an opportunity to meet the new family, or at least to say goodbye to the child.’

  ‘Sadly, Sir Percival’s not made of the same stuff as Father Ben,’ Ada reminded her friend.

  Sister Ann gave a heavy sigh. ‘Now we’ll never know who Bertie’s going to grow up with.’

  Completely baffled by the events, Ada shook her head. ‘I simply don’t understand the rush.’

  At Crow Thorn Grange, Matron was grilling Olive, who’d been tracked down and drafted in to care for the ‘special babies’. It didn’t take much of a financial offering to make sure Olive kept her mouth shut.

  ‘You do understand this arrangement here at the Grange is strictly confidential,’ Matron reminded the girl sternly, but she showed no sign of being intimidated by her employer.

  ‘Yeah, we’ve already been through this, Miss,’ Olive snipped impertinently.

  ‘Matron, to you!’

  Olive rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not like I’m at the ’ome any more, thank Christ!’

  Resisting the temptation to slap the cheeky little madam, Matron continued, ‘If you want the second half of your payment, you will behave yourself and do exactly as I say, understood?’ She paused before adding in a milder tone, ‘The boy is being secretly kept here at the parents’ request; they’re a rather high-profile society couple who want their adoption to be kept out of the public eye.’

  ‘Posh, eh?’ Olive inquired.

  ‘Yes, and powerful too,’ Matron replied. ‘So, are we clear about your routine?’

  ‘Yeah, just like at the ’ome. Feeding, bathing, changing, burping,’ Olive chanted off in a bored voice.

  ‘Watch him like a hawk, and sleep in the bed alongside his cot so that you can keep an eye on him through the night,’ Matron instructed. ‘And on no account must you use any door other than the back door.’

  In his cradle, Bertie began to cry.

  ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it, Olive – don’t let me down.’

  After leaving Olive to give Bertie his bottle, Matron slipped down the back stairs and left the hall by the back door. Some minutes later she re-entered the Grange via the front door, where she asked the butler if she could have a word with Sir Percival. Eager for news, Percival bustled Matron into his private study and quickly closed the door.

  ‘The Bennetts are hoping to arrive tomorrow,’ he said in a voice that was bristling with excitement. ‘Once I told them the child was in my charge, they simply couldn’t wait.’

  Matron was visibly relieved. ‘Good. I’ll be easier in my mind when Bertie is miles away and we’ve banked the second cheque we are due.’ At this, she very pointedly made eye contact with her partner in crime.

  ‘That joint account is set up, all ready and waiting for the next instalment,’ he assured her. ‘With luck, the future Earl of Easterbrook will very soon be on his way to London to start a wonderful new life and we’ll both be enjoying the fruits of our labour.’

  Matron gave him a hard look. ‘I would certainly hope so after all the effort I’ve put in, Archibald.’

  Back at Mary Vale, all the girls shared Ada’s sadness that B
ertie had been whisked away without any of them having had a chance to say goodbye.

  ‘I suppose that’s what happens here,’ Isla said thoughtfully. ‘A quick handover and a new life begins elsewhere. No doubt that will happen to my child after I’ve left him or her here.’

  Gloria and Emily exchanged an uncomfortable look; it was awkward to talk about adoption with Isla, when they both knew they were keeping their babies. Sensing their discomfort, Isla was quick to reassure them. ‘Don’t worry, I can’t grumble,’ she said realistically. It’s what I chose to do and I know it’s the right thing for my baby, and for me.’

  ‘Well, I hope at least it won’t happen quite so abruptly as it did with Bertie,’ Emily said indignantly.

  Isla was pragmatic. ‘I guess once the adoption papers are signed, wheels quickly start to roll and there must always be pressure on the Home to free up beds for new arrivals.’

  ‘Should we write back to Daphne to let her know Bertie’s been adopted?’ queried Gloria.

  ‘Yes,’ Emily said firmly. ‘She’d want to know.’

  ‘We can’t pretend we’ve met the parents, but we’ll just say we’re praying that Bertie’s in a good place, with loving parents who’ll look after him for the rest of his life,’ Gloria suggested.

  Emily and Isla nodded in agreement with her. ‘And it’s true,’ Isla murmured. ‘Our prayers are with Bertie, wherever he is.’

  Sadly, all their prayers and hopeful wishes for Bertie’s future were not enough for the little boy. Only just over twenty-four hours after Bertie left the warmth and safety of the Mary Vale post-natal ward, Olive started awake in the dawn light. Wondering why Bertie hadn’t woken her up for his 2 a.m. feed, she swung her bare feet out of bed and leant over to see him apparently sleeping peacefully in his cradle. As her short-sighted eyes adjusted to the grey light in the room, she came to the slow but alarming realization that this baby was not only too perfectly still, but also alabaster white. Hoping against all hope that her instincts were wrong, she dashed to the light switch by the door, then gingerly leant over to stroke the baby’s cheek – at which point her worst fears were confirmed. Bertie was stone cold. Though hard-hearted and calculating, Olive simply couldn’t bear to look at the baby’s sweet innocent face; trembling, and her mind racing, she hastily pulled on her clothes and a coat, left the Grange and ran down the fell road to Mary Vale to tell Matron about the tragic event. Knowing full well that leaving the house and the baby were specifically going against Matron’s instructions, Olive had no choice. Anyway, what did it matter now?

  23. Dark Plots

  In the bleak early-morning light, Olive, gasping for breath after her long run from the Grange, burst into the Home through the back door and found Shirley already busy baking bread in the kitchen. Startled by the sight of Olive, who had left Mary Vale some months ago and who had been disliked by many of the girls, including Shirley, she could only gasp, ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I have to see Matron immediately,’ Olive answered, her eyes wild. ‘It’s urgent.’

  Shirley gave the unpleasant-looking girl with sly eyes and a vicious tongue a long, suspicious look. She had to admit, though, that Olive did look genuinely distressed.

  ‘Get on with it,’ Olive snapped rudely. ‘Tell her I’ll wait for her in the garden.’

  Matron, who’d been in her office most of the night and had barely slept due to her nervous agitation, joined Olive, who wasted no time in breaking the awful news. Visibly shaken, Matron smothered a cry of anguish with her hand. ‘NO!’ she rasped. ‘That’s impossible!’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Olive assured her.

  ‘What did you do to the poor child?’ Matron demanded.

  ‘Nothing! I done like what you told me to do.’

  ‘You couldn’t have,’ Matron protested. ‘You obviously did something, you stupid girl!’

  Furious with Matron, Olive hit back with a snarl. ‘He was fine when I settled him down for the night! He’d fed well and I’d winded him, I was there right by his bloody side throughout the whole soddin’ night, but when I woke up he was gone.’

  Almost out of her mind, Matron paced the garden, running her hands through her hair.

  ‘I employed you to watch the child’s every move. God! Oh, God!’ Turning venomously on Olive, she lashed out further. ‘I’ll drag you through every court in England if you’re responsible for Bertie’s death.’

  Olive stuck out her chin. ‘Try it, and I’ll tell any court who asks how you sneaked the kid out of Mary Vale like a thief in the night.’

  By this time, Matron was literally ranting in fury. ‘He was a strong, robust child – he showed no indication of any abnormality or infection, his vitals were good,’ she gabbled to herself. ‘His breathing … his colour … they were both good … how could he possibly die?’

  Leaving a scowling Olive in the garden, Matron ran back to her room, where she immediately phoned Percival, whom she woke from his sleep, with Olive’s grim news.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he cried explosively. ‘What’re we going to do? The Bennetts are planning to arrive here later today to pick him up!’

  Tense and white-faced, Matron was thinking fast. ‘Then put them off immediately,’ she commanded.

  Percival was so panicked he had trouble understanding her. ‘Put them off?’

  ‘YES!’ she cried. ‘We’ve nothing to show them. Tell them the baby’s not well enough to travel – tell them anything to stall them,’ she added wildly.

  Eventually seeing the logic in her suggestion, Percival said, ‘Yes, of course, I’ll phone them right away … but we’ll have to come up with another plan.’

  Matron quickly corrected him. ‘Don’t you mean another baby?’

  Percival didn’t mince his words. ‘Precisely. Another baby – if we’re to get the Bennetts’ money.’

  Matron, who’d already thought of Tom as a possible replacement, added cautiously, ‘Actually, there is another baby boy in the Home.’

  Percival gasped in relief. ‘Can we pass him off as Bertie without arousing suspicion?’

  ‘We can but try,’ she said smoothly.

  ‘Then get the bastard up here as soon as you can!’ desperate Percival begged.

  ‘I’ll do my best, Sir Percival, but we must act carefully,’ she told him. ‘For the time being, I’m sending Olive back to the Grange, where she’ll await further instructions. I can’t keep her here, where residents might start asking her questions.’ She paused before adding, ‘Could you make sure the room Bertie occupied is back to normal before her arrival, please?’

  Before Percival could start to bluster and protest, Matron bade him a brisk good morning and quickly put down the phone. Having dispatched Olive, Matron locked her office door so she could be certain of no tiresome interruptions. Thinking fast, she grabbed Nancy’s and Daphne’s files, which would soon join Bertie’s file, safely locked away in her own private suite. But having the files safely in her hands wouldn’t get Tom up to the Grange, which was Matron’s burning priority.

  ‘Stay calm,’ she told herself. ‘Think!’

  The phone shrilling out on her desk made her jump sky-high. Grabbing it, she barked, ‘Yes. Who is it?’

  ‘Dr Jones here,’ came back the reply.

  Matron’s heart dropped; at this moment in time she needed to talk to the drunken doctor like she needed a hole in the head. Just the sound of his slurred voice put her teeth on edge.

  ‘I wondered what time would be convenient for me to conduct my rounds?’ he asked.

  Normally, Matron would have referred him to Sister Ada and have done with it, but it suddenly occurred to her that having a doctor as an ally (albeit a drunken one) could work to her advantage.

  ‘Dr Jones,’ she began in a tone of voice he’d never heard her use with him before, ‘would it be possible for you to come tomorrow morning?’ Making it up on the air, she babbled, ‘I’d like your advice on, er …’

  WHAT? she thought frantically. Pl
aying for time, she added vaguely, ‘There’s a child I’m a little concerned about …’

  Jones innocently volunteered the very information she needed. ‘Oh, dear, I hope it’s not got an attack of the measles,’ he remarked. ‘There’s a lot of it about at the moment. Have you checked for Koplik spots yet, Matron?’ he inquired.

  Matron’s heart raced. ‘I haven’t, but I will right away, Dr Jones.’

  ‘If you spot them at the back of the throat, then I need to see the child urgently.’

  ‘We certainly wouldn’t want that spreading through Mary Vale’s nursery,’ she added earnestly.

  ‘Let’s catch up in the morning, Matron,’ he suggested.

  ‘First thing,’ she replied, as she put the phone down.

  Who would have believed that idle, drunken Jones could have come up with a solution to her problem? Babies could go blind as a result of the infection; some even died. In homes like Mary Vale, where babies were at risk, it was essential that any contagious infant was immediately isolated in order to prevent the infection from spreading throughout the entire nursery. Getting to her feet, Matron paced the room as she made plans that would enable her to take exclusive charge of Tom. She would nurse him round the clock in a private room off the main ward, and, with him in her sole charge, she would be able to secrete him up to the Grange when the coast was clear. It would take planning and careful synchronization but it was do-able – if she kept her nerve.

  Shirley wasted no time in telling Ada about the visit that morning from horrible Olive (who everybody had been glad to see the back of).

  ‘She seemed all of a flutter,’ Shirley remarked.

  ‘How odd she should ask to see Matron,’ Ada mused. ‘As I recall, they couldn’t stand the sight of each other.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say they were on friendly terms now: from what I saw of the two of them in the garden, there was a lot of shouting,’ Shirley told her. ‘Matron soon sent her packing.’

  Ada couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Well, that’s a relief: the last time Olive was in the Home she pinched anything she could get her hands on!’