Where the Heart Lies (3 page)

Julie’s heart missed a beat. ‘You scared the daylights out of me, Harry!’

‘Sorry, love, didn’t realise it were you.’ He looked shamefaced. ‘What you doin’ here at this time of night, gel?’

‘I’ve got a mother in labour. Sadie Smith, number fifty-nine.’

Harry saluted with an index finger tapping his tin hat. ‘Right you are, Sister. Sorry to shout at you like that. Need any help?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him, even though she wasn’t at all sure what she’d find up in that poky little room.

‘Goodnight then – and good luck.’ He marched off and was immediately swallowed by the shadows.

Julie wove through the endless lines of washing strung across the courtyard, hurried past the communal taps and lavatory sheds which were the only sanitary provisions for the hundreds that lived here, and lugged her heavy bag up the endless flights of stairs, the torchlight flashing over crumbling plaster and broken banisters. Her footsteps rang out in the echoing, bug-infested building until she reached the fourth floor. The stench of those bugs mingled with that of urine, faeces and unwashed bodies, and was accompanied by the reminders of boiled fish and cabbage and the general filth of too many desperately poor people crammed into one building. But she was inured to it, knowing that despite their poverty, there was always a cheerful welcome for the midwife.

‘Thank Gawd you’re ’ere,’ said the blousy, henna-haired woman who was furiously puffing on a cigarette outside Sadie’s door. ‘I didn’t think you’d make it what with Gerry on the bleedin’ way.’ Dressed in her usual attire of short skirt, high heels and ratty fur coat, Val Wickens had clearly taken time off from the street corner where she usually plied her trade.

Julie smiled back. Val might work the streets, and think she knew it all when it came to having babies, but under that thick make-up and tough talk, she had a heart of gold when it came to her precious family. ‘Hello, Mrs Wickens. How’s Sadie doing?’

Val shook her head, the cheap earrings swinging back and forth. ‘By the looks of ’er, she’s pretty far gorn,’ she muttered. ‘Silly cow didn’t say nothing when I saw her earlier, but she must’ve been on the boil even then.’

Julie and Val were old adversaries when it came to Sadie. Val had had eight children, all born in her dingy basement room, and considered herself to be an expert. It had been Val that had persuaded Sadie to follow the family tradition and not be delivered in hospital. Julie merely nodded and went inside.

The small cold room was lit by a single candle wedged in a saucer and was bare of anything to alleviate the hopelessness of Sadie’s circumstances. Apart from the iron bedstead with its stained, lumpy mattress, there was a sagging chair, a battered chest of drawers and a scarred table which held a jug and bowl for washing and a frying pan and primus stove for cooking. A faded coat hung on the back of the door along with the rest of Sadie’s few bits of clothing, and a pair of shoes sat in front of the gas fire which hadn’t been lit – either because there were no tanners to feed it, or the very real possibility that it might blow up if a match went anywhere near it.

But despite the bare floorboards and the rotting plaster, the room had been swept and scrubbed determinedly into some order. A blackout curtain had been nailed over the only window, a photograph of Sadie’s sailor husband had pride of place on the mantel, and one of the dresser drawers had been
fitted out as a cot with a knitted blanket, a scrap of sheet, and a small pile of hand-me-down napkins and baby clothes.

Sadie was curled on the rumpled bed, groaning as another contraction ripped through her. As it waned, she gripped Julie’s gloved hand, her eyes wide with fear. ‘I ain’t gunna lose this one, am I?’ she pleaded. ‘It ain’t dead already, is it?’

Julie gave her a soft smile and patted her naked shoulder. ‘There was a strong heartbeat when I examined you this morning, Sadie. Now let me get me coat off and set up me things so I can check you again.’

Sadie gritted her teeth as another contraction began, and the enemy bombers droned overhead.

The crumps of the first explosions were distant, but the echo of their blasts still trembled in the walls as Julie pulled off her gloves, coat and scarf and swiftly tucked them neatly away in the sturdy brown paper bag she always carried with her. It was wise in such circumstances never to hang things up next to patients’ clothes or risk the horsehair-stuffed chairs and mattresses, for they were alive with fleas and bugs.

‘I got clean sheets and a bunch of old nappies wot I used fer my lot. There’s water an’ all,’ said Val, lighting another fag. ‘But it ain’t hot, ’cos I didn’t have no money for the paraffin.’

Julie silently noted she’d had enough money for her fags but said nothing as she opened her bag, took
the carbolic soap, nail brush and small towel from the outside pocket, and hurried to wash her hands in the icy water. Pulling on her rubber gloves, she bent over the sagging bed to listen to the baby’s heartbeat through the metal pinard, and give Sadie a swift examination. At least she’d shaved Sadie this morning and given her an enema, which was a blessing, for things were going too fast to do anything now.

‘Everything is going just fine,’ she reassured a terrified Sadie. ‘You’re in the second stage of labour and your baby’s pulse is strong and steady.’

Sadie burst into noisy tears and grabbed Val’s hand. ‘Oh, Mum. It’s going to be all right this time.’

‘I give her a fag and a drop of gin to ease the pain, like,’ said Val from the other side of the bed. ‘D’you think she could do with a drop more?’

Julie looked across at Val in despair. ‘Gin and fags aren’t the answer, Val. I’ve told you before.’

‘They done me no ’arm,’ said Val with a shrug.

Julie didn’t even waste time replying as she covered Sadie with the grubby sheet and rough blanket, and tried to think of some way to get Val out of here so she could concentrate on Sadie. ‘Could you find me some more candles, Val? I can’t see what I’m doing.’

A bomb exploded close by and made the whole building shudder, bringing down a cloud of filthy plaster. Julie swiftly placed the lumpy pillow over Sadie’s face to keep off the worst of the downpour, and held tightly to her tin hat.

Val merely ducked her head and continued to smoke. ‘What you want candles for?’ she shouted. ‘You got yer torch, ain’t yer?’

‘I can’t hold the torch and deliver a baby at the same time,’ yelled Julie over the high-pitched scream of an enemy fighter plane. ‘Just do it, Val.’

Val grumbled good-naturedly as she tottered off in her high heels for her basement room in the next block, and Julie quickly set out her instruments as the dogfights went on overhead and the bombs continued to explode. There were enamel bowls, a douche can, forceps for holding swabs or needles, a dilator to enlarge the cervical canal, cotton wool, gauze, a hypodermic syringe, umbilical tape, sulphanilamide tablets and scissors.

‘I wish I hadn’t listened to Mum,’ groaned Sadie from beneath the muffling pillow. Despite the cold, she was drenched in sweat and writhing on the bed. ‘Is it true they can give you something to ’elp with the pain in ’ospital?’

‘It is, yes, but it’s too late to worry about that now,’ shouted Julie over the rattle and boom of gunfire. As she examined Sadie again there was a sudden gush as her waters broke. It was a good sign, for it didn’t bode well if the sac burst too early. She managed to catch most of it in the rumpled sheet before it could soak the already stained mattress. ‘I’m just going to roll you on your side and get rid of this wet sheet so you’ll be more comfortable,’ she murmured.

‘It ’urts,’ moaned Sadie, who was now panting hard.

‘I know, lovey, but it’ll soon be over.’ Julie bundled up the sodden sheet and tossed it aside. ‘Right,’ she said, after she’d got Sadie on her side. ‘Now I want you to draw your right knee up to your chin so I can see what’s going on.’ She switched on the torch. ‘The head’s crowning, Sadie,’ she said as calmly as she could above the surrounding racket. ‘Now, I don’t want you to push just yet, but keep on panting.’

Sadie did as she was told as the walls trembled, the candle flickered and the dirt of decades sifted down with the plaster.

‘That’s it,’ Julie encouraged. ‘Good girl.’ She adjusted her tin hat firmly over the flowing white nursing cap and made the sheet into a tent over them both so the baby wouldn’t come into the world struggling to breathe through a cloud of dust.

‘I gotta push,’ panted Sadie.

‘Not too hard,’ said Julie firmly, her hand gently holding back the onrush of the head. ‘Breathe deeply and just push a little so the head comes out slowly and steadily.’

Sadie groaned and panted, her expression one of deep concentration.

‘That’s fine,’ mumbled Julie, who now had the torch in her mouth so she could see what she was doing. She waited for the contraction to end and gently eased the way for the crowning head, and then
cupped it in her hand as it emerged, checking again on the foetal heartbeat which remained strong and steady.

She took the torch out of her mouth with her free hand. ‘Well done, Sadie, you’re playing a blinder,’ she shouted as yet another bomb exploded nearby. ‘Now the next contraction will have your baby born, so you can push as hard as you like.’

The tiny shoulders emerged just as Val returned with more candles. Seeing what was happening, she swiftly took the torch and held it so Julie had both hands free.

Julie held her breath as the tiny shoulders and arms were presented and then the baby’s whole body slithered into her hands. Clearing the mucus and muck from its mouth and nose, she held the baby up by the feet to make sure it hadn’t inhaled any of it. But the tiny scrap was floppy, the chest not rising and falling with a first breath. She tamped down on the dread and swiftly slapped its tiny behind, desperate to hear the wonderful sound of its first cry. To fail now would be too cruel.

‘Why ain’t it crying?’ yelled Sadie as she threw off the pillow and tried to sit up.

‘It’s dead, ain’t it,’ muttered Val.

Julie prayed for a miracle and was about to massage the little chest when the tiny scrap let out a furious yell that almost drowned the roar of the overhead bombers. The tears came unbidden as immense relief flooded through Julie. ‘You’ve got a
girl, Sadie, and she’s a right little fighter, with a pair of lungs to beat the band.’

‘Ow, she’s lovely, Sadie,’ squawked Val, making the torchlight dance in her excitement.

Sadie reached out her hands. ‘Give ’er ’ere. Let me see, oh, let me see.’

‘Half a tick.’ Julie swiftly dealt with the umbilical cord, then shook the dust from one of Val’s worn nappies, wrapped it round the baby and unceremoniously dumped her on Sadie’s soft belly. ‘We’ve got to get out of here before the whole place caves in, Sadie,’ she said, hastily retrieving her torch and packing her things back in the bag. ‘Me and your mum are going to take you downstairs.’

Val and Sadie were cooing over the baby, seemingly unaware that the building was rocking on its foundations and that clouds of dust were swirling round them.

Julie pushed past Val and swiftly put her tin hat over the baby before covering mother and baby with the clean sheet, then struggled into her coat and scarf. With her bag perched next to Sadie, she slung her gas-mask box over her shoulder and grabbed the mattress. ‘Get the baby clothes, Val, and then grab the other end,’ she ordered.

Val picked them up and dithered. ‘It ain’t right,’ she muttered. ‘She ain’t got rid of the afterbirth yet.’

‘It could take up to half an hour,’ Julie retorted, flinching and ducking as a very close explosion blasted the window in and sent a spray of glass shards
ripping through the blackout curtain. ‘There’s no time to waste, Val,’ she shouted. ‘Grab the mattress and get them out of here.’

Sadie didn’t weigh very much, but still it was an unwieldy burden as they struggled to get the mattress and its precious cargo through the door and down the many narrow, winding stairs. The building shook, plaster and dust rose in a cloud and the stairs seemed to shift beneath their feet as the explosions ripped through Whitechapel. In the pitch-black it would have been easy to miss their footing, and Julie just hoped those towering heels of Val’s wouldn’t trip her up and have them all plunging to the bottom.

Both women were sweaty and trembling from the effort as they finally made the hallway. The torchlight revealed the deep recess below the staircase to be filled with stinking litter as well as a pram with no wheels, and a collection of cardboard boxes and empty bottles. In silent accord, they put the mattress down on the filthy floor and quickly cleared enough space by dumping most of the rubbish into the pram and heaving it out of the way.

It was dark and noxious, the smell making Julie gag as she squeezed in beside them. This was their only hope, for the public shelter was three streets away, the tube station even further. They’d have to trust to luck that the tenement didn’t take a direct hit.

‘Bloody hell,’ moaned Val. ‘It don’t ’alf pong in ’ere.’

‘Have a fag,’ Julie advised. ‘It might make it smell
better.’ She turned on her torch, concerned that Sadie had been so still and quiet during their arduous journey. She needn’t have worried, she thought with a weary smile. Sadie seemed unconcerned as the bombs exploded and the walls of the old tenement shuddered, for she was rapturously breastfeeding her newborn daughter.

In the dust-laden air, and amid the thuds and crumps of exploding bombs, Julie finally delivered the afterbirth and wrapped it in some of the old newspapers that were lying about. But sitting out a raid in this disgusting black hole was hardly the most sanitary of arrangements, and she feared that infection might all too easily set in. She cleaned Sadie as well as she could with swabs soaked in Dettol, checked the suckling baby’s heart rate, then dressed her swiftly in the worn baby clothes and kept both of them covered with the bedclothes. It was vital the baby didn’t get cold.

She switched off her torch to save the batteries and they were plunged into utter darkness as the fury of war roared all around them. The old building continued to rock and tremble as it withstood the blasts, and every second they expected the walls to cave in and crush them. As they sat, cramped, cold and terrified, they were unable to make even the most mundane observations.