by Daisy Styles
Though Gloria agreed with furious Ada’s sentiments, her thoughts were elsewhere; worried sick about the friend she’d just left behind in labour, she blurted out, ‘I feel so sorry for poor Em! Do you think she’ll be all right?’
Ada shook her head in disbelief. ‘It’s no wonder her waters broke after all this drama. There’s something about you mad Mary Vale girls,’ she mused. ‘Isla goes into labour three weeks early on the marsh rescuing Shirley, Emily’s waters break while she’s dashing about in the snow trying to rescue Heather – I just hope you’re not going to go haring off and give birth in a bush! Far too impetuous, the lot of you,’ Ada chided with a fond smile.
‘Listen to you!’ Gloria exclaimed. ‘Driving through a dark, snowy night on a dangerous mission to rescue an innocent child.’
As the gloomy outline of Crow Thorn Grange loomed up, Gloria grew nervous. ‘So what’s the plan?’
‘You stay in the car and I’ll do the talking,’ Ada said firmly. ‘I’m hoping that when Olive lays eyes on me, I’ll come over as official in my cape and uniform.’
Gloria couldn’t argue with Ada’s logic; even in the dark, she looked commanding in her ward sister’s starched white cap and uniform with a dark navy-blue cape thrown over her shoulders to keep out the chill.
‘You look like you could move tanks across Northern Europe,’ she answered confidently.
‘I just hope Olive thinks so too,’ Ada replied, as she negotiated the drive to the Grange.
‘How are you going to persuade her to hand over Heather? What will you say?’ Gloria asked anxiously.
‘I’ve been thinking just that too,’ Ada admitted. ‘I could say Percival sent me to pick up the baby.’
Gloria gave a brief nod. ‘Good idea: that might work … either Matron or Percival.’
Keeping the car lights dimmed, Ada followed Gloria’s instructions and drove slowly round to the back of the building, where she pulled up under a line of trees and quickly switched off the ignition. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped out of the vehicle.
‘Wish me luck,’ she whispered, as she strode boldly up to the back door, which was starkly illuminated by an electric light that shone down on to her as she rapped loudly against the door. When she got no reply, she rapped again but still got no response. Not in the mood for being ignored, Ada banged the door hard with the flat of her palm.
‘I’ll stay all night if I have to,’ she muttered furiously.
Eventually, the door slowly swung open and Olive appeared, her scowling face falling in surprise when she saw who it was.
‘You! Bloody Sister Dale, eh?’
Ada gave a haughty nod. ‘How are you, Olive?’
‘All the better for not being up the bleedin’ duff,’ Olive cackled. ‘What the ’ell do you want here?’ she quickly added.
All that Ada wanted was to get her hands on baby Heather. Speaking with a supreme confidence she didn’t feel, she squared her shoulders. ‘Heather, of course. Percival sent me to collect her from you, as Matron is tied up.’
Olive’s pinched little face contorted into an expression of contempt. ‘That owd cow!’ she sneered.
Ada quickly played her second card, just as Gloria had suggested. ‘Sir Percival wants the baby right away.’
Olive threw her a nasty suspicious look. ‘He never said anyfink to me about a bleedin’ nurse,’ she growled. ‘All he told me was some posh folks from down South are coming up here to take the kid away with them.’
Though her mind was reeling at what she’d just heard, Ada appeared to smile patiently. ‘Exactly,’ she said smoothly. ‘Which is why I’m here to take Heather to them.’
Olive shuffled uneasily. ‘I’m not sure …’
Ada gave a dramatic shudder. ‘I’ll catch my death if I stand here much longer. Don’t worry,’ she added in an unconcerned voice, ‘I’ll go and fetch Sir Percival himself; I’m sure he won’t mind coming out in this foul weather.’
Olive looked scared. ‘I ’ate that bastard!’ she exclaimed. ‘Treats me like dirt.’ Olive’s next words surprised Ada. ‘At least you treat me with respect,’ she said. ‘Wait there, I’ll fetch the kid for you.’
Hardly daring to believe she’d heard right, Ada glanced nervously around; what if Percival were to appear now? He’d catch her red-handed.
‘Hurry up, please, God, make her hurry up,’ she prayed under her breath.
When Olive reappeared bearing the carry-cot containing a sleeping Heather, Ada had to control an overwhelming urge to grab the baby and run.
‘I’ve just fed and changed her,’ Olive informed Ada. ‘She should sleep for a good few hours now.’
‘Thank you very much, Olive,’ Ada said in all sincerity, and, trying to control her heightening nerves, she quickly mumbled her goodbyes.
Seeing Ada approaching the car gripping the carry-cot, Gloria ducked down as far as she could in order to avoid being seen by Olive, who stood uncertainly on the doorstep for a few seconds before going back inside.
‘You got her!’ Gloria whispered triumphantly, as Ada laid the carry-cot on the back seat of her car, then quickly climbed into the driver’s seat.
‘Christ! That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done,’ she muttered faintly, as she started up the ignition.
Gloria turned to look at Heather sweetly sleeping in the carry-cot on the back seat. ‘Thank God – she’s safe!’
Desperate to get away, Ada struggled with the gear stick. ‘I’m afraid to go back the way we came,’ she admitted.
‘There must be a back road out of here,’ Gloria suggested.
When she switched on the headlights, Ada was able to make out an open farm gate that led on to a farm track; driving slowly to avoid the hedges that overhung the lane, Ada gathered speed as the track widened into a road, where she put her foot down and drove as if the devil himself were on her tail. Concentrating hard on her driving, she was also trying to formulate a plan. ‘It’s not safe to take Heather to Mary Vale,’ she told Gloria, who’d been thinking exactly the same thing.
‘Matron’s there, and Percival might well turn up with some cock-and-bull story and reclaim Heather,’ Gloria fretted.
‘Over my dead bloody body!’ Ada exclaimed through gritted teeth. ‘They’ll have to kill me first!’
Seeing car lights looming up behind them, both women started to sweat in terror – could it be Percival trailing them through the night, intent on snatching Heather back from them?
Gloria reached over and laid a protective hand on Heather’s carry-cot. ‘You’re safe with us, sweetheart,’ she whispered into the inky darkness.
They both gasped in relief when the car behind hooted, then, revving loudly, overtook them and roared on its way. Once she’d stopped trembling with fear, Gloria breathlessly picked up where they’d left off.
‘So, where can we take Heather?’
Ada was quiet for a minute, thinking, and then pushed her foot down on the accelerator. ‘I don’t know why I never thought of it before – it’s so obvious. There’s no safer place than the convent – that’s where we’ll take Heather!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Everybody’s there for the Nativity anyway; you never know, if our luck continues, we might catch the end of it!’
Draped in Gloria’s blue cloak, Shirley was carried into the chapel on Big Ear’s broad back; Robin, dressed as Joseph in a number of colourful tea towels (all donated by Sister Mary Paul), firmly held on to the reins as he led the donkey down the aisle to the sweet singing of ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’. Shirley might have enjoyed the experience a lot more if Robin hadn’t had a mighty tantrum just before the Nativity Play started. Completely at the end of his tether, the little boy, who’d waited so long for his mother’s return, stamped his feet and mutinied just as they were about to enter the chapel, where the nuns, local residents and girls from the Home were all eagerly assembled.
‘I can’t be Joseph if Mummy’s not here,’ Robin bawled.
Having heard from Si
ster Ann that Emily was home and in labour, Shirley had a brainwave.
‘Mummy can’t be here right now because she’s helping Aunty Emily have her baby,’ she whispered to Robin, who instantly stopped crying.
In an awe-filled tone, Robin whispered back, ‘Is Aunty Emily giving birth to Jesus?’
Shirley shook her head and smiled. ‘No, but she’s giving birth to a nice baby who needs your mummy’s help.’
Happy with this explanation, Robin took up Big Ear’s reins and finally did as they’d rehearsed a dozen times during the week: he walked down the aisle to the altar and helped Shirley (with a tummy as flat as an ironing board) to dismount so she could apparently give birth off-stage, in the stable at Bethlehem. Everybody, especially ecstatic Robin, cried out in wonder and delight when, moments later, ‘Mary’ reappeared on stage with a baby in her arms. But ‘Mary’ looked rather different – for the part was now being played by Gloria, with baby Heather playing the starring role of Jesus. Ada had, in fact, without even knowing it, timed their arrival to perfection; entering the convent via the chapel, Gloria and Heather were just in time to be the stars of the show.
‘MUMMY!’ Robin cried.
‘HEATHER!’ Shirley gasped.
While still cradling Heather, Gloria pressed a finger to her lips and, in what looked like a well-rehearsed, stage-managed direction, Shirley draped the blue cloak around Gloria’s shoulders, after which Gloria settled on the nearest hay bale with Joseph proudly standing guard at her side. As the choir sang ‘Away in a Manger’, Sister Mary Paul waddled in as the camel. Nearing the altar, she said in an over-loud theatrical whisper, ‘Sister Ann sends her apologies – she can’t play God tonight as she’s otherwise engaged in the delivery suite!’
Smiling down at Heather, who had woken up and gurgled when the singing began, Gloria held the baby close to her breast; Isla’s wonderful little girl was safe – the Church had given her sanctuary.
Having safely deposited Gloria and Heather in the chapel and returned the van to the yard, Ada ran into Mary Vale, which was virtually empty: apart from the girls on duty rota, all the other residents were at chapel enjoying the Nativity Play. Hurrying through the quiet wards, she made for the delivery room, where she found Sister Ann busy with Emily, who was groaning loudly. Quickly removing her cape, Ada washed her hands before joining the nun at the bedside.
Seeing Emily’s tense expression, Ada was quick to reassure the patient. ‘Heather’s safe – she’s in the chapel with Gloria.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ Emily exclaimed.
‘Get yourself over there, Sister,’ Ada added with a smile.
‘As I’m supposed to be playing God, I’d better not let the team down,’ Sister Ann joked, hurrying away. ‘I’ll leave you in Ada’s competent hands, Emily, dear,’ she called over her shoulder.
When the next contraction came, Emily gripped Ada’s hand and held it tightly. ‘I never thought it would be this hard,’ she groaned.
Ada, who’d had a chance to glance at Emily’s notes, reassured her brave patient. ‘You’re doing beautifully, Em,’ she said softly, stroking her hand. ‘George would be so proud of you.’
Emily gave her a grateful smile, which quickly gave way to a gasp of pain. Emily’s fingers cut into Ada’s flesh. Grunting like an animal, and in the space of just an hour or two, she was ready to push.
‘AAAARRRGGGHHHH!!’ she cried, pushing so hard she thought she’d explode with the effort.
‘The head’s crowned,’ Ada cried, and, within moments and just a few more contractions, the baby slithered into her waiting hands. ‘Emily, you have a son,’ she said. ‘A perfect little boy.’
After cutting the cord and gently cleaning the baby, Ada laid him in his mother’s arms.
‘My baby,’ Emily said, as tears coursed down her tired but radiantly happy face. ‘George’s son!’ she whispered, kissing the top of his warm head, then all of his fingers and toes. ‘My beautiful son.’
35. Christmas Day
Barely an hour after Ada had fled with Heather, Percival came knocking on the back door of the Grange, which was opened almost immediately by a yawning Olive, who could smell the whisky on his breath immediately.
‘The people we were expecting have been delayed by the bad weather, so you’ll have to take care of the child for a while longer,’ he told her curtly.
Confused by all the recent activities, Olive said sharply, ‘What yer talkin’ about? The bloody kid’s already gone. And anyway, I’ll have you know I’m not working ’ere on Christmas Day.’
Percival was stunned for a second before literally appearing to sway before her eyes. ‘Gone? Gone where?’
‘The sister from Mary Vale took her not long ago.’
As the horrifying reality of her words sank in, the blood drained from Percival’s face.
‘You mean Matron?’ he asked, hoping all his instincts were wrong.
‘Not ’er. T’other one, Sister Ada,’ Olive said with a grumpy shrug. ‘She said you’d sent her round to fetch the baby for’t posh folks who’d arrived.’
Any colour that was left in Percival’s face fled. ‘Where did she go? How long ago was this?’ he asked urgently. Thinking if he stayed one minute longer he would throttle the stupid woman with his bare hands, he snarled, ‘I swear you’ll pay for this, you senseless bloody bitch!’
Getting nothing more out of Olive, he ran back like a madman through the snow to his study, where he grabbed the phone and, with trembling hands, dialled Matron’s number. In her office, where she’d spent most of the evening pretending to be catching up on her paperwork but in reality desperately waiting to hear from Percival, Matron jumped when her telephone shrilled out.
Not bothering with any preamble, Percival broke the news.
Clutching the phone like a life-line, Matron simply couldn’t believe she was hearing correctly.
‘Taken where? By whom?’
‘One of your damned nurses! A sister,’ he snarled. ‘The idiot girl you left in charge told me. She just handed the child over to her.’ His voice wavered as he began to sob. ‘Christ, oh, Christ! Where is she? Who’s the wretched nurse who took her?’
Matron didn’t need to think twice: there was only one woman in Mary Vale who had the determination to pull off such an audacious trick – and that was Ward Sister Ada Dale!
‘Leave it with me – I’ll find her.’
On the maternity ward, Emily lay in bed with her son sleeping peacefully in her arms. Overwhelmed with love and the sheer wonder of childbirth, she gazed adoringly at her baby’s teeny, pearly fingernails, at the swoop of his delicate, dark eyebrows which already reminded her of George, and his silky thatch of dark hair which she gently stroked as she nuzzled his soft, warm cheek.
‘It’s like a miracle,’ she told Gloria when she came to visit after the play had finished and Robin had finally gone to bed. ‘I know you’ve experienced childbirth,’ she added. ‘But I never imagined I would ever feel such emotion and such a fierce, protective love.’
Gloria smiled and nodded. ‘Childbirth brings out the lioness in all of us,’ she agreed. ‘Have you got a name for him yet?’
‘He was born an hour into Christmas Day,’ Emily replied. ‘So I thought I might call him Noel – Noel George Holden,’ she said proudly.
‘That’s a fine name!’ Gloria exclaimed. ‘Wait until his daddy sees him.’
Emily’s wide blue eyes filled up with tears. ‘Oh, Gloria, I’m aching to see George,’ she sighed. ‘Holding his son makes me miss him more than ever.’
Gloria was determined not to let Emily dwell on sad thoughts. ‘Hopefully, you’ll be able to show George’s parents their beautiful grandson very soon,’ she soothed.
‘I’d like that,’ Emily answered shyly. ‘But I’m scared they’ll disapprove of him – you know, being born out of wedlock.’
‘Nobody could ever disapprove of a baby as beautiful as little Noel,’ Gloria answered staunchly.
‘You and Ada did s
o well, Gloria,’ Emily congratulated her brave friend. ‘If I hadn’t been in labour, I’d surely have come with you.’
‘You were definitely better off here, sweetheart,’ Gloria teased. ‘Ada was incredible: just strode up bold as brass and told Olive she needed to take Heather urgently. I thought I’d faint with fear,’ she admitted with a grin.
‘Can you imagine Olive handing Heather over just like that?’ Emily exclaimed. ‘I would’ve sworn she’d pick a fight.’
‘When Ada’s in professional mode, she’s a tour de force,’ Gloria said proudly.
Emily looked anxious. ‘Now what, I wonder?’
‘Heather’s definitely not coming back into the Home.’ Gloria dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Ada’s staying with her at the convent until we can think of a better plan.’
‘Thank God!’ Emily whispered back. ‘The further away Heather is from Matron, the better!’
Exhausted but happy, Gloria crept back to her bedroom, where Robin, worn out by an exciting day, lay fast asleep in his bed. After changing into her warm winceyette nightie, Gloria filled his stocking, which was hanging on the end of his bed with little treats: some walnuts, an apple, a small bar of chocolate, a tin soldier and some glass marbles. Yawning, she lay down beside her son and reflected on the day with all its fears and triumphs. Heather was safe; Emily had a son; and today was Christmas Day.
‘Peace on earth and good will to all men,’ she whispered, thinking sadly of those at the Front, fighting for their families; she prayed for their safety in the country they were battling to defend. ‘Goodnight, my darling Stan,’ she murmured into her pillow. ‘Merry Christmas, my love.’
Ada knew that once Olive spoke to Percival or to Matron, they would be on her tail and would do everything in their power to track her and the baby down. Even though it was late and she was emotionally exhausted, Ada had to speak urgently to the Reverend Mother, who needed to be made aware of the grim events that had taken place under her own roof. After she’d related everything she knew about Percival’s and Matron’s actions, both at the Home and the Grange, culminating in the abduction of Heather, the Reverend Mother’s dark eyes blazed with righteous anger.