by Emma Fraser
No one said anything as they set about getting ready. Jessie cleared the kitchen table and scrubbed it quickly with boiling water and carbolic soap. Dr MacKenzie took something from his bag that looked like an oversized perfume bottle and sprayed the table, filling the room with the not unpleasant smell of antiseptic. Isabel found a crate and placed it on some bricks to act as a table for Dr MacKenzie’s instruments, checking to make sure that it was at the right height and wouldn’t fall over easily. Jessie’s mother boiled more water and filled clean basins, while talking to Flora in a low voice.
When they had made the preparations, Dr MacKenzie explained to Flora what he was going to do.
‘Where’s my mam?’ Flora asked, looking frightened for the first time. ‘I want my mam!’
‘She’ll be back as soon as she can,’ Jessie’s mother soothed. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll look after you. In a very short while you’ll have your baby to hold.’
‘I don’t want the baby. I’ve told you that. I want my mam!’ Flora began to wail. ‘I should never have let Charles Maxwell near me. Just because he was the son of an earl. He said he cared for me, but when I told him about the baby he saw that I was turned out.’ Her words were coming in short bursts between groans of pain. ‘He said I must have been with someone else. He knows that’s not true. How could he do this to me? I hate him!’
So the gossip had been right. Poor silly Flora. How had she been taken in by a man whose position was so far above hers that there would never be any chance of marriage?
Jessie heard a gasp from behind. She turned. Isabel’s eyes had widened and she was holding a hand to her mouth. Didn’t she know that women fell to men they weren’t married to? It happened often enough. Well, she’d find that out when she became a doctor for real.
Dr MacKenzie passed Jessie a device that looked like a mouse’s cage. ‘Place it over Flora’s mouth along with this lint. Flora, I’m going to give you something to put you to sleep. Try not to fight it. Take deep breaths.’
Jessie did as he asked. Once the contraption was in place and Dr MacKenzie had snapped rubber gloves over his hands, he measured some liquid into a dropper and carefully released three drops onto the mask. ‘Now, Jessie, I want you to keep a close eye on Flora. Watch her chest rise, and if anything changes, tell me at once.’
Jessie nodded.
‘I’m going to cut Flora’s abdomen from the umbilicus to the pubic bone. Then I will cut through the uterus. Once I do that I will use retractors to keep the muscles apart. Isabel, I need you to hold the retractors in place so I can deliver the baby. Mrs MacCorquodale, if you could make yourself ready to take the baby from me? Wrap it tightly to keep it warm and check that it’s breathing.’
He raised his eyes and paused at each face in turn. ‘Any questions, or is everyone ready?’
Jessie’s mouth was too dry to allow her to do more than nod. She glanced at Isabel, but saw only excitement in her eyes.
When Flora’s breathing deepened, Dr MacKenzie picked up the scalpel. ‘Now, Isabel, when a doctor decides to cut he must not hesitate.’ He made one sure slice down Flora’s belly. Jessie watched, fascinated, as the skin parted to reveal a butter-coloured layer of fat. He sliced again, more carefully this time. ‘The important thing,’ he said, ‘is to apply just the right amount of pressure. Too little and you have to cut again, which isn’t good, too much and you risk harming the baby.’
As soon as he was into the abdomen he placed retractors on either side of the opening. He gestured to Isabel, who took the instruments without hesitation, holding them exactly as she’d been shown. Dr MacKenzie reached in and there was a slurping sound as the baby came loose from its sac. He passed it to Mam who took it from him. Jessie glanced down. Flora’s chest was still moving up and down. So far, so good.
Once Dr MacKenzie had removed the afterbirth, he took the retractors from Isabel and threw them into one of the basins.
Isabel cut the umbilical cord, took a length of catgut from her father and used it to tie off the cord.
A cry of outrage came from the bundle in Mam’s arms and Jessie caught Isabel’s eye. Once more they shared a smile. It was always incredible to Jessie that a baby who had, moments before, been in its mother’s stomach could cry seconds later as if it were starving.
Dr MacKenzie sewed up the wound and, as he did so, Flora began to moan.
‘I think she’s waking up,’ Jessie said.
‘I just need another minute. Jessie, give her one more drop of ether. Only one, mind.’
Jessie did as she was asked, and Flora settled again.
When Dr MacKenzie had finished repairing the wound, he saturated some lint in the same stuff he’d sprayed the table with earlier and placed it over the stitches. Then he took a bandage and dressed the wound. As he straightened and stretched, Flora mumbled and moved her arm, swiping at her face.
‘You can take the mask away now, Jessie,’ Dr MacKenzie said. ‘The less time a patient is under, the better. I’ll give her morphia before I leave.’
He ripped off his gloves and flung them into the bowl beside the retractors. ‘Could you wash them in boiling water for me, Jessie? I’ll do them again when I get back to the surgery, but I never put anything soiled into my bag. If there’s one lesson I can teach you it would be that. More patients die from infection than anything else.’
Isabel and Jessie helped Dr MacKenzie lift Flora back onto her bed. She was awake, although her eyes remained unfocused. Mam placed the baby beside her and turned away as a paroxysm of coughing overtook her.
‘How long have you had that cough, Mrs MacCorquodale?’ Dr MacKenzie asked.
‘She’s had it for a long time, Doctor,’ Jessie said. ‘I’ve asked her to see you but she won’t.’
‘Sit down and let me listen to your chest,’ he said. ‘It’ll save you a trip to my surgery.’
Jessie turned her back to give them what little privacy could be had and busied herself washing Dr MacKenzie’s gloves while Isabel cleaned the table. Jessie couldn’t help admiring the doctor’s daughter. She might be a lady, but that didn’t stop her mucking in.
‘Are you really going to be a doctor?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t think it was possible for a woman.’
‘It’s not easy,’ Isabel replied, ‘but I’m determined.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t believe in letting anything stop me once I make up my mind. There are several women doctors in this country already.’
‘I wanted to be a nurse,’ Jessie said. After helping Dr MacKenzie save Flora and her baby’s lives – and as sure as the tide came in twice a day, that was what he had done – she wanted it even more. She had played her part too. Jessie glanced behind her. Flora was awake now, looking drowsily at her baby with a warring mixture of disgust and pride.
‘Archie told me. Have you changed your mind?’ Isabel said.
Jessie sighed. ‘No. I was supposed to go to secondary school after the summer – I won the bursary, you know, but it isn’t enough by itself. I need extra for board and lodging. Archie said he’d try to help me – he hoped when he’d finished his own schooling that he could get a decent job on the mainland, something that paid more, but when Dad died, he had to stay to help with the croft. We only make enough to keep ourselves.’ Suddenly she realised she’d said too much. In the aftermath of what they’d been through, she’d forgotten herself. Archie would be furious with her for discussing their money problems in public – and with someone like Isabel, who couldn’t have the slightest interest in the affairs of the crofters.
‘How much do you need?’ Isabel asked.
Jessie stiffened. She didn’t want charity if that was what Isabel was thinking. ‘Enough to cover my board and lodging, I suppose. I’d try to earn it if I could find someone who’d let me work for them after school. I wouldn’t care what I did. I’d scrub floors, clean stables, anything.’
‘I might have an idea,’ Isabel said. ‘Why don’t you let me see what I can do?’ She raised her voice. ‘Jessie would m
ake a good nurse, wouldn’t she, Papa?’
The doctor turned. Mam was doing up the buttons of her blouse and, for a split second, Jessie saw a look of sorrow on his face that chilled her to the bone. But before she could be sure, he had replaced it with a smile. ‘Wouldn’t who what?’ he asked.
‘Wouldn’t Jessie make an excellent nurse? I know they’re crying out for decent nurses in Edinburgh.’
‘Yes, they are, but if you’re talking about the Royal Infirmary, they’re looking for their probationers to have a School Leaving Certificate, which takes them beyond primary school. Do you have that, Jessie?’
‘No, sir. But I want to.’
‘We’ll help you. Won’t we, Papa?’
Dr MacKenzie smiled. ‘We shall do our best. Let me have a think how to go about it.’
Chapter 10
Two days after they’d delivered Flora’s baby, Charles called on Isabel. Happily Mama was having luncheon with Lady Glendale at the castle.
‘Please tell Lord Maxwell I am indisposed,’ Isabel told the maid, ‘and unable to receive him.’
She knew now why Papa had not wanted her to become friendly with Charles: he was the father of Flora McPhee’s baby. Isabel might have been able to accept that but for the knowledge that he had refused to acknowledge the child as his – and to have stood back allowing Flora to be dismissed when the fault lay with him as much as her, was contemptible. She wanted nothing to do with him.
He’d called twice more over the following weeks and had been told that Isabel was not free to see him. On each occasion neither of her parents had been at home and Isabel was beginning to suspect that he had waited until she was alone to call on her. That made her despise him all the more.
However, soon she’d be free of his attentions. In a few days she was going to Edinburgh to prepare to start her medical studies, but first there was something she needed to do. She had news for Jessie and was looking forward to seeing her face when she told her what she’d arranged.
‘Has my father taken any lunch?’ Isabel asked the maid, as Seonag helped her into her coat.
‘Mrs MacDonald says he managed a little of her chicken broth. Your mama is with him at the moment.’
Her father had been in bed for the last few days and Isabel was a little worried. But when she’d asked whether she should call the doctor from Portree who was covering for him while he was in bed, he had told her not to be silly. ‘It’s only a cold, child. A few days’ rest and I’ll be back on my feet.’
Isabel hadn’t liked the look of his flushed face, or the way he’d seemed to be struggling for breath, but Papa was the doctor. He’d know if there was something the doctor in Portree could do for him. Nevertheless, if he wasn’t better by this evening, she’d take matters into her own hands and call the doctor herself.
She was still feeling uneasy when she arrived at the MacCorquodales’ house.
Jessie opened the door and smiled hesitantly. Isabel wondered if she knew how pretty she was, with her dark curly hair and bright enquiring eyes, so like her brother’s.
‘Miss MacKenzie! Please, come in.’
Isabel had never been inside Archie’s home before and looked around with interest. There were two rooms: a bedroom and the kitchen with its open fire and chairs on either side. On one, Mrs MacCorquodale sat, winding some wool onto a skein. There was a curtain, behind which Isabel guessed there would be a recessed bed. The only other items of furniture were an ornate oversized sideboard against one wall and a table in the centre of the room. Mingling with the smell of peat smoke was the delicious aroma of home baking. Indeed, the table was piled high with scones and bread.
Jessie must have been the baker as she had a smear of flour on her forehead. Her pinafore covered a worn but clean dress. Disappointingly, there was no sign of Archie but it was rare to find a man indoors during the day.
Mrs MacCorquodale placed her wool on the floor and rose to her feet. ‘Miss MacKenzie, what brings you here? Does your father need help with a patient?’
‘No. He’s in bed, poorly,’ Isabel replied. ‘The doctor from Portree has taken over his cases for the next few days.’
Jessie and her mother shared a quick glance.
‘Nothing serious, I hope?’ Jessie said.
‘I trust not.’ Isabel held out the package she had in her hand. ‘My father asked me to give you this, Jessie. It’s one of his medical textbooks. He says you can keep it for as long as you need.’
Jessie took it from her and started to unwrap it. ‘Please thank him for me. Will you take a cup of tea?’ She indicated the empty chair across from where her mother had been seated.
‘Thank you,’ Isabel said, perching tentatively on the edge. There were a few moments of strained silence. ‘I’m leaving on the steamer on Monday,’ she said, ‘However, before I go, I have some news for you. I’ve spoken with my father about Jessie’s education, Mrs MacCorquodale, and he knows a family in Inverness. The father is a teacher and he and his wife have five children who are all at school. He is willing to have Jessie to stay if she is prepared to be nursemaid to the children when they’re not at school.’
The hope in Jessie’s eyes was almost painful to see.
‘Jessie will share a room with one of the other maids and have her board, lodging and a small amount for her everyday needs. She will be able to attend school.’
‘I can go to school? Sit my exams?’
‘And when you’ve done that, you’ll be able to start your training.’
‘As a nurse?’ Jessie’s eyes shone.
‘Yes! Now, what do you say?’ Isabel could barely conceal her satisfaction. She had it all worked out. Everything had been thought of.
Jessie jumped to her feet, went to her mother and crouched by her side. ‘What do you think, Mam? Can I go? I hate to leave you, especially with Dad gone.’
Mrs MacCorquodale frowned. ‘Why should you worry about leaving me, child? I’ll have Archie to keep me company. I’m perfectly able to keep house still. It’s only your fussing that stops me doing more.’ Some of the light went out of her eyes. ‘Your dad would be proud to know his child was getting a proper education.’
‘Do you really mean it? Oh, Mam, I’d only be away for a year, two at the most, and I’ll save every penny I can so that I can come and see you.’ Jessie turned to Isabel. ‘This means I can be a nurse! A proper nurse!’
‘There’s more,’ Isabel said. ‘Papa says if you do well in your exams, and he has no doubt that you will, he’ll put in a word for you with the matron at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary to have you taken on there as a probationer. The pay would be poor, and the hours long and hard, but you’d be able to stay in the nurses’ home and have a first-class training.’
Jessie’s smile broadened. ‘I’m used to hard work. And for the chance to be a nurse at one of the most famous hospitals in the world, let alone Scotland, I’d do anything! Work day and night, if they asked me!’
Isabel laughed. ‘I don’t think it’ll come to that, and first you have to get another year or two of schooling, but as far as I can see, everything is in place.’
She stood up and Jessie’s mother did the same. She grasped Isabel’s hands in hers with a surprisingly strong grip. ‘Thank you, and please thank Dr MacKenzie. We’ll never forget this kindness. Anything my family can ever do for yours, you have only to ask.’
Jessie held out Isabel’s coat for her.
‘Is Archie about?’ Isabel asked, as casually as she could, slipping her arms into the sleeves. She wanted to tell him herself about the arrangements she’d made for Jessie. She wouldn’t put it past him and his pride to refuse help.
‘He’s on the croft moving our sheep to different grazing,’ Jessie replied. ‘You might pass him on your way to Galtrigill.’
‘I’ll try to find him there, then.’ She paused in the doorway. ‘If I don’t happen to come across him, will you tell him goodbye from me and that I wish him well?’
‘Of course,’ Jessie said,
with a mischievous smile. ‘But I think he’d prefer it if you told him yourself.’
After Isabel had left, Jessie could hardly sit still for excitement. At last it looked as if one day she would be a nurse. And not just any nurse! One of the nurses from the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary!
She grabbed some dirty clothes from the basket, thinking she might as well do some washing. While she scrubbed, she would make plans.
As she sorted the clothes, a handkerchief stained with blood dropped to the floor.
Jessie picked it up and frowned. It was one of Mam’s. It had the initials Jessie had painstakingly sewn on the corner last year, before giving it to her for her birthday.
Mam had picked up a basket and was preparing to go out to gather plants to make dye for the wool she had been spinning. She coughed and slid an anxious glance at Jessie.
The truth hit her like a blow to the stomach.
Mam had been coughing for such a long time and she’d lost so much weight that her arms looked like a chicken’s wings. Her cheeks were hollow and her complexion sallow.
Now the look in Dr MacKenzie’s eyes on the day Flora McPhee’s child had been born made sense.
Jessie had seen enough consumption in the village to know that her mother had it. How could she have been so blind? She’d been so wrapped up in herself she’d failed to see that Mam was sick. What kind of nurse would she make if she couldn’t even watch out for her own?
‘Why don’t I make us a cup of tea, Mam?’ she said.
Her mother shook her head, surprised. ‘There’s no time, Jessie. There’s too much to do.’ She smiled. ‘Just wait until Archie hears that you’re going to be a nurse.’
Jessie’s chest tightened. There would be no going away for her now. ‘Mam, please. Sit down.’
As if she knew what was coming, Mam didn’t protest, but sat down in her chair and closed her eyes. Jessie warmed the teapot on the stove as she waited for the kettle to boil. She set out two cups on the table and buttered a scone for her mother. When the kettle boiled she filled the teapot and placed it back on the stove to mash. She knew she was putting off what had to be asked.
