by Kate Eastham
Ada blushed. No one had ever spoken to her about her monthly bleeding before, let alone shouted it across to her.
‘Thank you, I’ll remember that,’ she said, busying herself instantly.
Noticing her embarrassment, Dolly instructed Ada to start ferrying some wood for the fires that heated the water. They needed to be kept lively.
‘Will do,’ said Ada, glad to have something different to do, something that felt much cleaner but just as vital. She took to this very well, throwing the sticks and logs on to the fire and seeing the sparks fly up. It was so hot, though, and she could feel the sweat streaming down her face and between her breasts. Good job Dolly made sure they always had a pot of water on to brew tea or just to give them boiled, cooled water.
The work was hard but it didn’t matter because Dolly’s hearty laugh and saucy humour seemed to make the day go easily. And the tasks were such that you could get on and do them and have a good natter at the same time. During that first day Ada learnt why Dolly thought Tom Dunderdale kept himself clean-shaven. Dolly had seen Tom, up early in the mornings, over his bowl and in front of his mirror with a shiny cut-throat razor, soaping and scraping away at his chin, never one nick or scratch. Did you ever see any other man taking a shave out here? Not even the doctors or the officers. That whey-faced Dr Mason kept his beard trimmed but the rest didn’t bother. So Tom must have some special reason to take the time to scrape, scrape, scrape his skin every morning. Dolly suddenly grabbed Ada’s face and rubbed her chin roughly against her cheek: ‘So ’e can rub his bristly chin against the smooth cheek of Sister Mary Roberts!’ accompanied by great guffaws of laughter. Dolly relished the telling of this story.
When they weren’t chatting, Dolly and Ada sang as they worked, to drown out the praying and the weeping if nothing else. Ada felt at home here with these women; it was like being back with Mary and Mrs Regan. They worked on throughout the day, until the light began to change, the fire burned down and they were ready to tip out the dirty water from the tub.
The wash had dried well, strung up on lines and laid out on the grass. They brought it in and folded the sheets, then Ada set to work rolling the bandages so that the nurses could use them tomorrow and Miss Smith would be satisfied by the full baskets. Dolly showed her how to do this and how to keep them tight so they wouldn’t unravel.
As she sat, a large ginger cat with light green eyes came to rub and twist its way around her skirt. ‘That cat: you know his name, Ada?’ She shook her head and Dolly let just the right amount of time elapse before informing her, ‘That’s Tom Dunderdale, that is,’ with a gleeful glint in her eye and a massive laugh to end the working day. Even the silent woman smiled and the weeping woman paused from her grief for just a few seconds as she and Dolly laughed until their ribs hurt.
Then Dolly gestured to Lavinia and told her it was time they were finishing up and they both went over to Ruth and Dolly put her arm around her and helped her up off the box. Dolly set off with them, one on each arm, back to their tent, shouting ‘Goodnight,’ and ‘See you tomorrow!’ as they went.
Ada assumed that Dolly’s husband was up at the camp or on the front line, but surprisingly she hadn’t given Ada one single detail about her own life. When Ada got back to the nurses’ quarters she asked some of the hospital nurses about her, and the girls eagerly told her their favourite Dolly story. She’d been at the Battle of Balaklava with a group of army wives and spotted 500 or so Turkish troops running headlong down a hillside straight through the British line towards the port, yelling, ‘Ship, ship!’ When Dolly realized that the Turks had abandoned a British Army regiment, she brandished a large piece of wood and chased them down the hill, the poor Turks running and shouting with their pots and pans in their hands, Dolly and the Cossacks in hot pursuit.
This story was a favourite in the nurses’ quarters and always made everybody laugh. The women thought that all the British Army really needed was a regiment of women just like Dolly – send them in to Sevastopol and the siege would be over in a day.
‘You’ll be all right out there with Dolly,’ they told her. ‘Even if the Russians attack, she’ll see ’em off good and proper.’
Ada had to admit that she did feel safe out there with Dolly and she would go as far as to say that she was looking forward to another day in the laundry.
Next morning, as they were getting up, there was a knock at the door. Rose quickly finished fastening her blouse and opened the door just far enough to communicate with the person at the other side. Ada could hear some kind of mumbled conversation but she was too sleepy to bother seeing who it was and she was still lying on the mattress, waiting her turn for the commode and the bowl of water.
She heard Rose close the door with a click and then she made an announcement to the whole room. ‘They need someone to go up to the army camp this morning to an urgent case. One of the army wives is in labour and running into difficulty and their doctor is sick with a fever. Does anyone have any experience?’
None of the nurses responded. Ada could tell that they didn’t want to go, and she knew from her day on the ward how sorely they were needed here.
‘Do you have any training, Nurse Blackwood?’ one of them asked.
‘No, I do not,’ answered Rose, looking very uncomfortable at the very idea of dealing with that sort of thing.
There was still nothing coming from the hospital nurses so Ada piped up: ‘Well, I have a bit of experience and I’ve seen the woman who was our local midwife deliver a few.’
Rose looked at Ada, shocked. ‘How can that be? You are so young; surely you should not have been exposed to that sort of thing.’
Ada smiled and said, ‘Well, it’s all part of life where I come from.’
Rose blushed a little at the very thought, then was forced to concede that Ada would be the only candidate. ‘Let’s get you moving, then,’ she said. ‘Get ready as quickly as you can; there’s a wagon waiting at the front of the hospital as we speak.’
Ada shifted herself and got ready, grabbing her red shawl on the way out. She was soon down the corridor and out through the front door. Moving at speed, she almost ran into Dr Lampeter, who was standing by the door waiting for something.
Ada mumbled her apologies and dodged around him quickly without stopping, wondering what the heck he was doing lurking outside.
She saw a wagon with the horse tethered but no driver. She was expecting to see Tom Dunderdale for some reason, but there was no sign. She stood for a few moments outside; then someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to find Dr Lampeter.
‘You’re not telling me that they’ve sent you?’ he said.
‘Well, I’m waiting to go with someone up to the army camp on an urgent call,’ she replied, realizing immediately that he was the person who was going up there, he was the person she would be assisting.
‘There must be some mistake,’ he said, turning on his heel to go back into the hospital.
‘No mistake,’ said Ada firmly. ‘I’m the only one with any experience.’
Lampeter stopped in his tracks and turned back to her with a scowl. ‘Damn and blast it,’ he said. ‘There’s no time anyway. We need to get off.’ He walked straight over to the wagon without looking at her, then turned and said, ‘We’ll see about this when I get back,’ before leaping up into the driver’s seat.
Ada was frozen for a moment.
‘Well, come on then,’ said Lampeter. ‘No time to lose, nurse.’
14
‘I think one’s feelings waste themselves in words; they ought all to be distilled into actions … which bring results.’
Florence Nightingale
Lampeter did not say a single word to her or even look in her direction during their journey over the roughest road that Ada had ever ridden. It seemed like the longest six miles of her life.
The ground was rock hard and riddled with ruts from all the other vehicles, horses and men that had passed over it during the wet season. It was so dust
y that it was difficult for Ada to see much of the terrain they were travelling through and she needed to hold her shawl over her nose and mouth at times. It looked open, empty and barren.
She remembered what Tom Dunderdale had told her about this road, how it could be frozen solid in winter, or, after heavy rain – even in summer – thick with Crimean mud that sucked and dragged man and beast knee-deep to a complete standstill. She knew that things had improved a great deal since the new railway had opened in March to carry supplies up and wounded men down. To think that they’d brought the track, the sleepers and the locomotive all the way out here and built it from scratch in next to no time. It had made Ada feel proud to be British.
As they finally approached the white tents of the camp, Ada saw a soldier waiting for them at the guard post. He gestured for them to stop, then spoke to Lampeter, telling them to be as quick as they could. They both leapt down from the wagon and another soldier took their horse.
They followed the man through a maze of tents until they could hear the sound of what could only be a woman in labour. A blood-curdling scream pierced the air and a terrified-looking man wearing a red jacket winced as he stood outside the tent. The man’s eyes widened when he saw them and his face cleared a little; then he begged them to help.
‘Are you the father?’ asked Lampeter.
‘Yes, I am, I am,’ said the man with tears in his eyes. ‘She’s been going on like this for too long, too long. You have to do something, doc.’
Ada saw Lampeter grip the man’s shoulder, trying to give some reassurance. Then they both ducked their heads and almost bent double to get into the tent.
Once inside Ada could stand up easily and Lampeter had more room than expected but it was still very cramped. Ada was shocked, not only by the darkness and heat inside such a confined space but by the salty, pungent smell of childbirth. The woman was lying flat on her back in an area inside the tent that was dug down into the ground. She was lying on the bare earth with only a filthy blanket under her. Another woman was in attendance but she was panicked and crying.
Ada took off her shawl and asked the crying woman what had been happening.
‘Well, she was labouring all day yesterday and her waters broke this morning but the baby won’t come.’
Another strong pain came over the mother. She grabbed her friend and started to scream. Ada glanced across at Lampeter for reassurance but he was looking thoughtful and didn’t seem to have much else to offer. And then he said, ‘Get the history. Ask them more about what’s been happening so far.’
Ada nodded. As soon as the pain had subsided and the mother had lapsed back into an exhausted state, she said, ‘So the waters broke this morning?’
‘Yes,’ said the friend. ‘It’s her first, see, and I’ve only helped with those who’ve had babies already before. This is different, see. It’s not going right. She keeps wantin’ to push and she’s pushin’ and pushin’ but nothing comes. I’ve never had anything like this, see. Somethin’s wrong.’
Ada saw the worried look on the mother’s face as her friend was speaking and she knew that she had to move quickly.
‘Right,’ she said to the friend. ‘We can take over from here. You go and get yourself something to eat and drink.’ Ada could see that the woman looked relieved as she leant over to give the mother-to-be a kiss and said, ‘You’ll be all right now, lovey, the doctor is here.’
Ada looked over to Lampeter and wasn’t sure that was the case; he looked nowhere near as comfortable in this army tent with a labouring woman as he had on the ward and she knew that she would have to take the lead for now. She remembered that one of Mrs O’Dowd’s women had been struggling with her first and she had given birth on all fours. She couldn’t think of anything else that might help and looking again at Lampeter she knew that he had no clue.
‘Right,’ said Ada, outwardly calm but inwardly terrified, stroking the woman’s arm as another pain started to build. ‘I need you to turn over on to all fours.’
‘What the bloody hell!’ snarled the woman. ‘Get off me!’ she shouted, pulling her arm away and screaming in Ada’s face.
Ada let her ride through the pain once more and then as soon as it was subsiding she said again, more firmly, ‘You have to move. You have to move so the baby will come.’
Exhausted and slurring her speech, the woman started to wail and cry, ‘I can’t move, I can’t!’
‘You can if we help you,’ said Ada, indicating to Lampeter that he needed to assist. ‘Now, before the next pain,’ she said, but the woman’s face was already starting to contort. ‘Right!’ shouted Ada, hauling on the woman’s arm and pulling her up. ‘Now, turn over. Dr Lampeter, help us please!’ she almost spat at him.
Together they pulled and heaved the woman over on to all fours as another huge pain swept over her. Ada grabbed her red shawl off the ground and placed it down under the woman between her legs. Ada’s instinct had told her that the baby needed to move down. And down it would bloody well come with the next pain.
‘Right,’ said Ada, helping to support the woman, ‘when the next pain comes, try not to push; pant like a dog.’ She had just remembered that piece of advice from Mrs O’Dowd.
Within seconds another strong pain was racking the woman’s body. Ada shouted, ‘Pant, pant!’ and panted herself, showing the woman what she meant.
Lampeter clearly didn’t have any other ideas and this seemed to work better than the agony of watching the woman lying flat, bearing down and bearing down. The next pain came. ‘Pant, pant!’ shouted Ada, and then again, and again, and again, the pains coming one on top of another, piling up. The woman was holding up but only just. In the short time they had together between pains, Ada tried to soothe her and establish eye contact, then maintain that contact as the woman’s face contorted in agony.
The woman had her skirts bunched up around her middle now and with the next pain something seemed to change. There was no way that she could resist the urge to push, no way on earth. And as her body contorted with a huge contraction, the black sticky mass of something appeared between the woman’s legs and then slipped back.
‘Good, good!’ said Ada, inwardly terrified. ‘Baby’s coming, baby’s coming.’
Looking round at Lampeter for support, she saw that he had started to explore the contents of his medical bag.
With the next contraction the black sticky mass appeared more and with the next and the next it didn’t slip back. Ada had shouted to Lampeter to get ready: the baby was about to come. Then another pain came and as the woman started to push she saw the baby’s face appear with a tiny blue hand squashed against its cheek. The head was out now but Ada could see the thick, twisted cord wrapped round the baby’s neck. She moved round to support the woman, telling Lampeter calmly what she had seen.
‘Leave it to me,’ he said, ‘I know what to do with that,’ and Ada was so relieved she thought she might faint. She moved back while he came to look and without hesitating felt gently round the tiny neck and pulled at the cord, stretching it over the baby’s head just in time for the next huge heave of the woman’s body that delivered the shoulders. Then with the next pain the rest followed, out on to Ada’s bright red shawl.
Ada looked down, almost shocked to see a baby. ‘It’s a girl,’ she said to the exhausted woman, who was now hanging her head, unable to speak. ‘It’s a girl,’ repeated Ada.
For one still moment they all waited, panting, pouring with sweat. Waiting for that first cry, but none came.
Ada looked down at the sticky bundle on her shawl, all arms and legs, fingers and toes and a scrunched-up face. But no breath, no breath entering its small body. She took the shawl and rubbed the baby’s body, moving it around, rubbing its back. Still nothing.
By this time the woman had lain down in exhaustion, too far gone to even look, with tears streaming down her face. Ada looked at Lampeter for help but knew without him saying that he had as much idea about what to do with that baby as she did. He ha
d turned his attention to the thick blue-veined cord, using a length of the woman’s apron string to tie it firmly in two places before taking some big scissors from his bag and cutting it. Ada was surprised to hear how gristly that sound was.
At least now she had the baby free to try and stimulate some sign of life.
She continued rubbing at it; she held it upside down in the hope something might drain from its nose and mouth. Still nothing.
Next she cradled it in her left arm and then with the index finger of her right hand felt round inside its tiny mouth, pulling out slime. She then grabbed the corner of her apron and used it to wipe inside the tiny mouth. Still nothing.
The baby’s colour was darkening and she thought that she could feel the small body starting to cool. She began to feel real panic building inside her.
In desperation, as she cradled the tiny body in her left arm, she bent over, held its face with her right hand, covered the small nose and mouth with her own mouth and gently breathed out her own warm breath of life. Gently, so gently. Still nothing.
Again she bent over the tiny face, tasting its salty, sticky new-born coating. Again she breathed out over the baby’s mouth and nose, this time more strongly. Still nothing.
She gave the baby’s body another rub and, in a blind panic but determined not to show the woman or Lampeter, gave one last breath over the baby’s face.
Suddenly she felt a small movement, like the stirring of a gentle breeze. Then the sound of a small bubbly snort and a cough. Instinctively she turned the baby’s body over on to its side as it coughed a bit more, and then came a feeble cry; it drew in some more air and gave a stronger cry.
A loud cheer came from those gathered outside the tent.
As she held it she felt the movement of a tiny chest and then her own tears started to flow freely down her face. Keeping her back to Lampeter she checked the baby over. It seemed to be all right; she could see that the baby girl had all the parts that it was meant to and looked like the other babies that she’d seen just born. Then, wrapping the baby in her red shawl, she handed her to the woman, who was crying nearly as much as Ada.
