by Daisy Styles
‘There, meine Liebe, there …’ she soothed.
The baby feebly nuzzled the nipple, then she opened her mouth and started to suck.
‘She’ll soon get the hang of it,’ Dora assured the nervous new mother.
‘Now,’ said Ada, smiling as she sat down on the chair beside the bed, ‘can you please tell us what on earth possessed you to do such a reckless thing as to go walking in the forest on your own, young lady?’
Embarrassed. Zelda smiled. ‘I felt so lively and energetic this morning, and it was such a lovely day, so I decided to go to Cartmel Forest to pick some stinging nettles and knitbone for Frank’s ointment.’
‘Cartmel Forest!’ Dora declared. ‘I ask you!’
‘My waters broke when I stumbled and fell on the forest path.’
Dora rolled her eyes in complete horror. ‘I was in such a state,’ Zelda continued. ‘But luckily for me Frank heard my calls and came to my rescue.’
‘Lucky!’ Dora scoffed. ‘It’s nothing short of a blooming miracle.’
A deeper blush spread across Zelda’s face. ‘Frank was so calm. He told me not to fret, as he had delivered puppies, kittens and about a hundred lambs in his time.’ She smiled tenderly. ‘Somehow that made me feel confident that he could deliver my baby too.’ Looking down at her now sweetly sleeping daughter, Zelda spoke with a catch in her voice. ‘Frank did a wonderful job.’
Not wanting to overtire her patient, Ada rose to her feet. ‘You must rest now – here, let me take her,’ she said, as she lifted the drowsy baby off her mother’s breast. ‘Has this little girl got a name yet?’
Zelda slowly nodded her head. ‘Constanza Cartmel,’ she said proudly. ‘Constanza after the wife of Mozart, who was my husband’s favourite composer, and Cartmel after the forest where Frank brought her into the world.’
Dora grinned. ‘A grand name for such a tiny little baby.’
Snuggling down into her bed, Zelda dreamily repeated the name of her daughter. ‘Constanza Cartmel,’ she whispered before she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
News of Zelda’s baby’s birth swept round Mary Vale. When Diana and Gracie heard what had happened to their close friend, they were momentarily struck dumb with shock.
‘She had her baby in Cartmel Forest?’ Gracie spluttered in a very high voice.
Ada nodded. ‘It’s true,’ she said.
‘On her own?’ Diana gasped.
‘Frank Arkwright turned up just in time to deliver the baby,’ Ada informed the thunder-struck women
Gracie slumped weakly in her chair. ‘I’ve heard it all now. The man Zelda thought was a monster turns out to be her knight in shining armour!’
With an amazed smile on her face, Diana cried, ‘I can’t believe Frank brought mother and baby back to Mary Vale in his horse and cart!’
‘Are they all right now?’ Gracie asked anxiously.
‘Yes, they’re both fine,’ Ada assured her.
‘What in God’s name was the girl doing out there?’ Gracie cried.
‘Looking for stinging nettles for one of her remedies,’ Ada smiled.
Diana giggled as she swept her blue eyes over Gracie’s big tummy. ‘Take care you don’t go wandering into the forest looking for stinging nettles,’ she joked.
Gracie vehemently shook her long, dark hair. ‘Don’t fret yourself. I’m staying put right here in Mary Vale.’
In the days that followed Constanza’s birth, Zelda literally bloomed with joy and love. Her thick red curls seemed deeper and richer in colour, her dark eyes sparkled with happiness, and her sweet, heart-shaped face glowed with health. Lying in her hospital bed one freezing cold morning, Zelda stared dreamily at the flakes of snow drifting by her window. She was startled from her reverie by Ada, who popped her beaming face around the door.
‘You’ve got a visitor,’ she said.
Zelda looked up in surprise. ‘It’s not visiting time yet, is it?’
Ada gave an indulgent smile. ‘No, but we can make exceptions for this one.’
Stepping aside, she made way for the visitor, who was none other than Frank Arkwright. Zelda cried out with pleasure at the sight of him.
‘Frank, how lovely to see you!’
Frank shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.
‘I’ll make you both a nice cup of tea,’ Ada offered.
Tapping the chair beside her bed, Zelda smiled. ‘Please, sit down.’
When he did, Zelda noticed how clean shaven and smart Frank looked; he had abandoned his usual woolly jumper and thick tweed working jacket in favour of a well-brushed coat and shiny polished boots.
‘Where’s the little lass?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Constanza’s asleep in the nursery,’ Zelda explained.
‘Is that what you’ve named her?’
‘Constanza Cartmel,’ Zelda told him with a proud smile.
‘Them’s proper bonny names,’ Frank beamed in approval.
‘Some have already shortened her name to Connie,’ Zelda informed him.
‘And is she hale and hearty?’
With grateful tears brimming in her brown eyes, Zelda answered warmly, ‘She’s a bundle of health, thanks to you.’
Frank shrugged this off as if delivering a baby in the middle of a forest were of no consequence at all.
‘It were now’t,’ he mumbled.
Zelda stretched out her hand in order to take hold of Frank’s big hand, which was creased with calluses from rough farm work.
‘We could have died out there on our own,’ she whispered. ‘I will be grateful to you till the day I die.’
And before she could stop herself, tears began to run down Zelda’s cheeks. Frank, initially startled, solemnly drew a perfectly white handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping her face as tenderly as if she were a child that had just fallen over, he murmured gentle words of comfort. ‘There, there, pet. Thee mustn’t go upsetting yourself,’ he warned. ‘I’ve seen it happen with cows – it turns the milk.’
Zelda stopped crying and started to laugh out loud. ‘Frank Arkwright! You are a wise man as well as being a kind one,’ she giggled.
Clearly embarrassed by all the high emotion in the room, Frank could only mumble, ‘I’ve got summat for the little lass.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ Zelda replied.
Another embarrassed moment followed as Zelda wondered where ‘the summat’ he had mentioned could possibly be.
‘It were too big to bring indoors so I left it outside on’t path,’ Frank explained, as he pulled the curtains aside in order to give Zelda a better view from her bed.
Sitting up straight, Zelda strained her eyes to make out through the falling snow what Frank’s gift might be. She gasped in surprise when she spotted a big navy-blue pram on the path outside her window.
‘A pram!’ she exclaimed in delight.
‘Aye, a new one too,’ Frank told her with a proud ring in his voice. ‘One of them fancy Silver Cross jobs, with a hood and cover to keep out any bad weather and proper sprung wheels too.’
Completely overwhelmed, Zelda grasped Frank’s hand for the second time, raising it to her lips to gently kiss it. But this time it was Frank Arkwright who had tears in his eyes.
27. Babies
As the snow continued to fall, creating a beautiful but icy-cold landscape, Mary Vale’s baby nursery was comfortably snug even if it did ring with the loud cry of new-borns. George and Teddy, now strong, wriggling little boys, seemed to compete with each other as to who could make the loudest noise, while tiny Constanza surprised everybody with the strength of her lusty cries. Reticent Zelda, who was quietly spoken, blushed with embarrassment when her daughter’s cries rang out.
‘She’s often the loudest in the nursery,’ she told Dora, who gave a philosophical shrug.
‘That’s what babies do, lovie. How else are they going to claim our attention?’
‘She cries even when she’s just been fed,’ Zelda pointed out.
‘S
he’s just exercising her little lungs, exploring the world,’ Dora said knowingly. ‘Stop fretting, lass, she’s feeding well enough – little yet often, though that will change as she grows and gets into a regular routine.’ Stooping over one of the little white cribs, she lifted baby George into her arms. ‘How’s this lovely little lad doing?’
‘He’s so big,’ Zelda exclaimed.
Making herself comfortable in one of the changing chairs, Dora laid the heavy baby on to her wide lap. Giving George an affectionate tickle, she playfully chided him. ‘Stay still while I sort out your dirty nappy.’
When George was clean and changed, Dora warmed up a prepared bottle of formula milk for him and, holding him securely in the crook of her arm, fed the little boy, who sucked loudly as he hungrily drank his milk. Sitting beside Dora and breast-feeding Constanza, Zelda asked if there were any more news on George’s adoption.
Dora sadly shook her head. ‘Nothing. According to Father Ben, everybody who comes to see George loves him to bits, but they feel he should grow up in a mixed environment, with other kiddies of colour.’
Zelda frowned. ‘Are they in fact saying they’re afraid of bringing up a child of mixed race?’
Dora gave her a knowing look. ‘Probably. Look at Maria’s own father,’ she snorted derisively. ‘He wouldn’t even have George’s father in the house – imagine what his feelings must be towards George’s baby?’
‘But he’s so lovely,’ Zelda cried with tears in her big brown eyes. ‘People are so cruel, so judgemental.’
‘There’s plenty of them in the world,’ Dora answered bitterly.
‘How long can you keep him at Mary Vale?’
Dora gave a sad shrug. ‘We don’t have the facilities here for babies beyond three months; anyway the younger a baby is when it’s adopted the better the bonding between the baby and the new parents.’
‘What if Father Ben can’t find the right family for George?’ Zelda asked fearfully.
Dora gave a heavy sigh. ‘Then he would have to go into an orphanage.’
‘Oh, God,’ Zelda murmured sadly. ‘He’s such a delightful little boy.’
‘He’s that all right,’ Dora agreed, as she laid the sleepy baby over her shoulder and lovingly patted his back. ‘He’s a little champion.’
After his feed Diana popped George into one of Mary Vale’s big old-fashioned prams. Tucking him up beside Teddy, she set off for a walk around the snowy garden, accompanied by Gracie. Walking along the garden path, Diana smiled indulgently at George and Teddy, snuggled up together under a warm woolly blanket.
‘Bouncing these two along in a pram seems to send them off to sleep better than anything,’ Diana told her companion.
‘As long as they’re well wrapped up, the fresh air will do them good,’ Gracie replied.
‘Are you all right?’ Diana enquired. ‘I would have thought you’d prefer to stay indoors on a day like this.’
‘I’m a bit like the boys, in need of fresh air. ‘I’ve been feeling so cooped up recently – I feel like I’ve been pregnant ALL my life,’ Gracie groaned. ‘Sometimes I think I’ll never see my feet again!’
‘From the look of you I’d say you’ve not got long to go,’ Diana remarked.
As she stopped briefly in order to rearrange the blankets around the slumbering babies, she said adoringly, ‘Just look at these little cherubs. Even in their sleep they clutch on to one another.’
Gracie, who had often watched the boys lying on the nursery rug, chuckled at the sight of them. ‘When they’re awake they’re like two little boxers, grabbing hold of each other, usually by the ears and squeaking. Heaven knows what they’ll be like when they’re toddlers; they’ll probably tear each other’s hair out.’
A sad expression clouded Diana’s pretty face as she continued pushing the pram along the garden path.
‘They won’t be toddlers together, Gracie,’ she quietly pointed out. ‘Eventually they’ll go their separate ways. We’ll be in one place, God only knows where, and George will be in another, probably hundreds of miles away from Teddy. They’ll grow up not knowing each other at all.’ Not wanting to linger too long on a subject that was becoming increasingly painful even to think about, Diana quickly said, ‘What about you, Gracie, still keen to get back to Barrow?’
Gracie replied without a moment’s hesitation. ‘I can’t wait to get back to the shipyard; hopefully if there’s a shortage of men on the ground I might get to do what I’ve dreamt of for years.’
Diana threw her a quizzical look. ‘What would that be?’
‘To drive one of the shipyard cranes,’ Gracie announced.
‘I imagine that’s still a man’s privilege?’ Diana queried.
‘Aye, but there’s bound to come a time when there’ll be no choice but to ask us lasses to do the job,’ Gracie cried. ‘Who else is going to work the cranes if all the fellas are away at war?’
‘You’re right,’ Diana agreed. ‘And we all know what a good driver you are,’ she teased.
Gracie threw back her shoulders as she added with complete conviction, ‘I’ll convince the gaffers just as soon as I’m back in the yard that I can do as good a job as any fella,’ she said passionately.
Diana couldn’t help but laugh at Gracie’s complete conviction that it would happen. ‘What about romance, men, marriage?’ she teased.
Gracie rolled her sparkling green eyes. ‘Bugger that! Once I get out of Mary Vale, I’m going to be a career girl with HIGH ambitions,’ she joked. ‘Anyway,’ she continued on a more serious note, ‘I want to make up for all that I’ve put my poor parents through. I want to make them proud of me for a change.’
‘Dora’s son, Jack, seemed to notice you when he was home on leave,’ Diana remembered. ‘I thought he might be keen to keep in touch’.
Gracie stopped in her tracks before she gave a reply. ‘He is keen,’ Gracie agreed. ‘But you’ve got to admit, Di, it’s a bit rum: me pregnant and him writing to me, not love letters but about things that we might do together in the future when he’s home on leave.’
‘Perhaps he just likes writing to a pretty girl,’ Diana suggested.
‘Maybe,’ Gracie sounded unconvinced. ‘By the way, Di, don’t mention his letter-writing to Dora: I don’t want her getting the wrong impression.’
‘I won’t say a word,’ Diana promised. ‘Though in truth I think Dora would be pleased if she knew you were cheering her son up.’
‘The truth is, Di, I’m not cheering Jack up,’ Gracie told her bluntly. ‘I’ve never replied to any of his letters and I know full well that Dora really wouldn’t appreciate that.’
Diana nodded her head in agreement with her friend’s wishes, while at the same time thinking how extraordinarily unexpected life was at Mary Vale: before her stood a determined young woman with ambitions to drive a shipyard crane; in the nursery was a baby girl born alive and well in a forest, sleeping alongside her own dear Teddy and precious George, who might well end up an orphan. War was forcing radical changes everywhere, quite rightly challenging old beliefs. Nevertheless, a cold shiver shot down Diana’s spine: change brought fear and uncertainty, both of which she had had more than her fair share of recently.
When they walked back into the Home, both women were delighted to find Frank Arkwright and his father erecting a splendid fir tree, still speckled with snow, in the entrance hall.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ Gracie exclaimed in delight.
Frank gave her a cheeky wink. ‘I set off t’other morning to chop one down but got side-tracked by Zelda in’t forest,’ he joked. ‘I thought I’d better make amends before I get a roasting off Sister Mary Paul.’
After helping Diana with the babies, now wide awake and starving hungry, Gracie wheeled the pram back into the storeroom, where the big nursery equipment was kept. Deep in thought, she mulled over Diana’s words. Was Jack keeping in touch with her simply because it was pleasant to have a bit of feminine company, or was there more to it than that? She lik
ed the lad well enough – he was warm, open, straight and funny, just like his mam – but right now the thought of anything beyond friendship with men repulsed Gracie. After her shaming affair with flighty Reggie and the consequences of getting pregnant, Gracie had no sexual appetite. The cheeky young flirt of a girl had been replaced by an older, more cynical woman who would never make the same mistake again.
Everybody loved the Christmas tree, which generated excited festive plans.
‘We should decorate the dining room,’ Gracie suggested.
‘And bake cakes,’ Zelda suggested, before quickly adding, ‘That’s if we can get enough rations and Sister Mary Paul will let us use her kitchen.’
‘We could hang little Christmas stockings by the fireplace for the babies,’ Diana added.
Ada and Sister Theresa, who had joined the girls around the Christmas tree, had their own suggestions too. ‘There’s a lovely carol service in the chapel on Christmas Eve,’ Sister Theresa informed the group. ‘You’re all warmly invited.’
‘Fate always conspires to make me work on Christmas Eve,’ Ada said with an apologetic smile. ‘Somebody always goes into labour just as the carol service starts, so, seeing as I’m on duty that night, I’m not making any firm plans to attend the service. But nothing will keep me away from Sister Mary Paul’s Christmas dinner. Last year Farmer Arkwright supplied the Home with two geese – nobody dared ask where they came from,’ she added with a wink. ‘We were just grateful to have them.’
‘This will be my first Christmas with my Sisters in the convent,’ Sister Theresa said happily.
Ada yet again marvelled at the change in Shirley. This happy, confident, articulate young women dressed in her nun’s habit and wimple was hardly recognizable as the same sad, wretched girl who had arrived at Mary Vale in need of sanctuary. Ada missed not seeing Shirley as frequently as she used to in former days – her life as a nun obviously meant that the convent and her religious life came first. When she did see Shirley, or Sister Theresa as she must remember to call her, it was always a joy, especially when she turned up on the ward with a mop in one hand and a bucket of hot soapy water in the other.
