The Londoners

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘Miss Voigt?’ Mrs Roberts stressed the ‘Miss’. ‘It’s a first baby, isn’t it? I’ll tell my husband, when he returns. I don’t anticipate that being until late afternoon, but if Miss Voigt has only just gone into labour it will be plenty soon enough.’

  She began to close the door and Leon strategically placed a foot so that she couldn’t do so. ‘Kate’s pains are coming quite close together. And they seem to be fairly strong. Strong enough to take her breath away. I’d like to have Doctor Roberts’ opinion. If you could tell me whereabouts to find him . . .’

  ‘There’s a war on!’ Mrs Roberts’ face had now become openly hostile. ‘Or perhaps, not being British, you hadn’t noticed? When my husband returns from his rounds I will tell him that Miss Voigt’s baby is on its way. He certainly won’t want disturbing with the news sooner than is absolutely necessary.’

  Leon’s face was as expressionless as a mask. He should have realized the kind of reaction he might meet with. No doubt Mrs Roberts believed him to be the baby’s father. The distaste in her eyes certainly indicated that she did so. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he turned his back on her, not lowering himself to state that he was as British as she was. He knew the Mrs Robertses of this world and he knew that remaining to argue with her wouldn’t do him, or Kate, the slightest good. It would only make her even more intransigent. As the local Air Raid Warden, Mr Nibbs would no doubt be aware of Doctor Roberts’ whereabouts. He’d have a word with him. After he had first gone back home to check on Kate.

  She was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, her hands gripping the seat, her back arched, her eyes closed, Hector whimpering at her feet.

  ‘Kate!’ He crossed the kitchen in swift strides and squatted down in front of her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, his voice harsh with urgency. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  She shook her head, her eyes still closed. ‘No,’ she managed at last, her voice a gasp. ‘Poor Hector can’t understand what’s wrong. Where is Doctor Roberts? Is he on his way?’

  ‘He’s on his rounds. His wife refused to say whereabouts. The men at the ARP post will know.’ He had never felt more helpless or inadequate in his life. ‘I’m going up there now, Kate. I’ll be back with him as fast as is humanly possible. Do you want me to help you upstairs before I go? Have you banged on the wall to try and attract Harriet Godfrey’s attention?’

  She let out a long, shuddering sigh as the pain eased. Opening her eyes, she said tautly, ‘Harriet’s not in. She’s on duty. She was leaving her house when the postman delivered your letter.’

  There were beads of sweat on her forehead and he felt his stomach turn a sickening somersault. If the contractions she was experiencing were merely early warning contractions, then he was a Dutchman. This baby wasn’t going to take a long, leisurely time over being born. It was going to make its appearance in the world in the least possible time.

  ‘Could you help me upstairs, Leon?’ There was a look of apology in her eyes. ‘I’m going to have to lean on you pretty heavily.’

  His throat tightened. He wanted to tell her that she could lean on him for as long and as heavily as she wanted; that she could lean on him for the rest of her life. He said instead, ‘I’m going to need to put my arm round your waist. Is that OK? I won’t be hurting the baby, will I?’

  She giggled and the knowledge that she still felt capable of giggling infinitely reassured him. It meant that despite the pain of the contractions, she wasn’t afraid. And he didn’t want her to be afraid. Not ever.

  ‘What waist?’ she asked, heaving herself to her feet to Hector’s vast relief. ‘I haven’t had a waist since last summer. And no, you won’t hurt the baby.’

  He slid his arm around her and she leaned against him. It was the closest physical contact there had ever been between them. He only wished to God it was taking place under different circumstances.

  ‘No,’ she said when they reached the top of the stairs and he began to lead her towards her bedroom, Hector bounding ahead of them. ‘I need the bathroom, Leon. I need to take a bath.’

  He sucked in his breath, appalled at how little he had realized the necessity of her having a woman with her. He couldn’t help her in and out of the bath and she damn sure wasn’t in any state to manage on her own.

  She said gently, reading his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them out loud, ‘I can manage, Leon. Try and find Doctor Roberts. I think I’m going to need him quite soon.’

  He’d never been more reluctant to leave anyone in all his life. ‘Don’t lock the bathroom door,’ he said tautly. ‘Just to be on the safe side. Don’t try and get in or out of the bath if you feel a contraction coming on. Don’t . . .’

  ‘Go,’ she said as the pain in her back intensified and she felt another contraction beginning to gather up steam.

  He took one look at her face and the urgency in her eyes. ‘I’m going,’ he said, turning on his heel, praying to God that the leg he had injured would be strong enough to stand up to a desperate run.

  Kate turned on the geyser over the bath, thankful that, unlike in the East End, Magnolia Square’s gas mains were still intact. As the contraction took hold and as the blessedly hot water began to run into the bath, she sank to her knees, leaning her weight on the edge of the bath, breathing deeply. How long were the contractions lasting for? She wasn’t wearing a watch and she didn’t know.

  She dropped her head down over the steaming water. She mustn’t fight the pain. To fight the pain would be to brace her muscles against it and that would be to hinder what her body was trying to achieve. Hector pressed up close against her, disturbed and distressed. She sucked in another lungful of air and then let her breath out in a harsh pant. She should have asked Leon to time one of the contractions. Leon. Without Leon where on earth would she be? The answer came immediately. Frightened. She would be frightened. But it was impossible to be frightened when Leon was with her. ‘Hurry!’ she said aloud as the contraction began to ebb and she forced herself again to her feet in order to turn off the geyser. ‘Hurry, Leon! Hurry and get back to me!’

  Leon was hurrying. Despite having been declared fit enough to return to active service he still had a slight limp and he cursed it heartily as, hampered by it, he sprinted as fast as he was able for the Heath.

  Giant silver barrage balloons were tethered near to the ARP post. It was a breezy, damp day and instead of riding high in the sky in their efforts to keep enemy aircraft at a high altitude, the balloons were floating nose to wind a mere few hundred feet up, surging restlessly in the rushing air, their stabilizing fins flapping furiously.

  ‘What’s the rush?’ Mr Nibbs asked authoritatively as Leon burst in on him.

  Leon had no intention of launching into a long explanation. ‘I need to get hold of Doctor Roberts,’ he gasped, panting for breath. ‘Fast. Do you know whereabouts he is?’

  ‘Down Point Hill. A bomb-damaged house has collapsed and a woman and child have been injured.’

  Leon sucked a deep breath of air into his lungs and spun on his heel.

  ‘He won’t want distracting from what he’s doing down there,’ Mr Nibbs called out after him and then, as Leon showed no intention of respecting his authority, he added bad-temperedly beneath his breath, ‘especially by a bloomin’ darky!’

  At least Point Hill wasn’t far. Leon pounded over the grass of the Heath and then over pavement, grateful for all the effort he had put into strengthening his leg. The minute the ruin of what had once been a family house came into view, his heart sank. The front wall had cascaded down across the pavement and into the road. Brick-dust and plaster-dust hung heavily in the air. Air Raid Wardens helped by members of the Home Guard had formed a human chain and were dismantling the wreckage brick by brick. A small group were squatted precariously on the highest point of the collapsed building, peering down into a chasm, indicating that at least one person was still trapped in the ruins.

  ‘Stay away, if you please!’ a policeman called out
to him, confirming his worst fears.

  ‘I’m looking for Doctor Roberts!’ Leon shouted back, taking no notice of him. ‘Is he here? I need a word with him, urgently!’

  ‘He’s here but he’s in no position to indulge in small talk,’ the policeman said grimly. ‘We’ve a young mother and child trapped beneath this little lot. The kiddie’s hurt badly and Roberts is giving what aid he can.’

  ‘I still need to speak to him!’ Leon’s heart, already slamming after his long run, began to slam even faster. Roberts wasn’t going to be able to leave until the woman and child had been extricated and taken to hospital. It was a task that could take minutes . . . or hours. He was going to have to get the name and address of a midwife off Roberts or, failing that, he was going to have to get Kate to the nearest hospital.

  ‘One of Doctor Roberts’ patients is in labour,’ he said tersely. ‘It’s her first baby.’

  The policeman snorted, not unsympathetically. ‘Women! I’ve never known one yet that had a proper sense of timing. You’d best ask Roberts what he wants you to do. Only don’t offer my services. Things are bad enough as it is without my turning my hand to midwifery!’ With a nod of his head he indicated the group of rescue-workers squatting high on the rubble.

  ‘Careful, mate!’ one of the men shouted as Leon began to make his way carefully towards them. ‘They’re trapped in what was the kitchen. The nipper was playing house apparently and her mum had come to tell her she shouldn’t be playing in a bombed-out building when the whole ruddy lot went.’ He eyed Leon’s navy cable-knitted sweater short-sightedly. ‘Are you fire-service or ambulance?’

  ‘Neither,’ Leon said, treading very, very carefully in order not to cause a fresh tumble of rubble and make a dire situation catastrophic. ‘But I need an urgent word with Doctor Roberts.’

  ‘You’ll have to shout your urgent word,’ an Air Raid Warden who had been listening to the conversation, said tersely. ‘We’ve lowered Roberts into the kitchen and he’s giving first aid to the kiddie. She’s trapped,’ he added unnecessarily as Leon clambered to his side, ‘and we aren’t going to be able to get her out till this little lot,’ he indicated the devastation around them with a jerk of his thumb, ‘is carted away.’

  Beneath a criss-cross of shattered wooden beams Leon looked down through what had once been the first floor of the house and into a chaotic shambles of fallen masonry and wrenched-off doors. A pair of trouser legs were visible, their owner obviously stretched out full length, belly down.

  ‘The kid’s pinned under the table,’ the Air Raid Warden said helpfully. ‘Her mother’s with her and that table is all that’s keeping an avalanche of bricks and mortar from tumbling down on top of them, and on Roberts as well.’

  Leon inhaled a lungful of dust-laden air. ‘Can you hear me, Doctor Roberts?’ he shouted into the pit. ‘My name is Leon Emmerson. I’m Kate Voigt’s lodger. Her baby’s on the way and her pains are coming quick and heavy.’

  The trousered legs moved slightly and then a muffled voice shouted back, ‘She’ll be all right for hours yet . . . the minute I’m out from under this little lot I’ll be right with her!’

  ‘She’s not all right!‘ Leon shouted back, wondering how, with no previous experience of childbirth he could be so utterly sure, ‘Have you the address of a midwife I could call? Or another doctor?’

  The reply was so muffled, Leon could barely hear it. ‘It’s a first baby! You’re panicking unnecessarily! Now get the hell out of here! All this shouting could bring whatever’s still standing down on top of us!’

  ‘He’s right,’ the Air Raid Warden said grimly. ‘Vibrations are funny things. Sometimes it only takes a whisper to bring hundreds of tons crashing down.’

  Leon swore. From the minute he had seen the pulverized building he had known there wasn’t a hope in hell of his returning to Magnolia Square with Doctor Roberts in tow. Somehow he would have to get Kate to hospital.

  He made his way carefully past the human chain passing bricks from hand to hand. Unless more efficient help arrived it would be a long time before the entombed mother and child would be free and even when they were free he doubted if Doctor Roberts would be in any condition to bring a child into the world. He would very likely be in need of medical treatment himself.

  He slipped beneath the cordon that had been erected around the collapsed house and broke once again into a run. He had to get Kate to hospital. If Harriet Godfrey had been home it wouldn’t have been the slightest problem. Harriet could have run the two of them to hospital in her ambulance. But Harriet wasn’t at home. He pounded up to the top of Point Hill Road. Who else in Magnolia Square had transport? Albert Jennings had a hearse, but it was always full to the gunnels with either full crates of fruit and vegetables, or empty crates.

  Beneath his running feet paving-stones gave way to grass. He would have to telephone for an ambulance and he didn’t know anyone in Magnolia Square who was on the telephone. The ARP post. Relief surged through him. He would be able to summon an ambulance from the ARP post. First, though, he had to get back to the house. He needed to reassure Kate. He sprinted as fast as he was able across the road edging the Heath. And he needed to reassure himself that Kate hadn’t fallen when getting in or out of the bath; that she hadn’t hurt herself or, in falling, hurt the baby.

  The second he was in the house he heard her groan. It wasn’t the groan of someone weary or in discomfort. It was the deep, deep groan of someone rapidly slipping to the point where dignified containment of pain was impossible.

  His stomach lurched. ‘Kate!’ he shouted as Hector stormed towards him. ‘I’m back. Kate?’

  With an agitated Hector at his heels he tore up the stairs, his hands clammy with sweat on the bannister rail. His first thought was that she had fallen getting in or getting out of the bath. Dear God in heaven, why had he allowed her to take a bath when there was no-one in the house to help her if she got into difficulties? He should have run down to the Lomaxes’ and seen if Mavis was in. Christ! He should have dragged someone in off the street if necessary!

  ‘Leon!’ Her voice was a gasp and it was coming from the bedroom, not the bathroom.

  Without slowing momentum he grasped hold of the knob on her bedroom door and pushed it open, hurtling into the room, dreading what he might see.

  She was on the bed, lying flat, her hands above her head gripping tight onto the brass bars of the bed-head.

  ‘Leon!’ The relief in her eyes was vast. It vanished the instant her eyes went past him to the empty doorway. ‘Where’s Doctor Roberts?’ she asked hoarsely. ‘The baby is coming, Leon! Where’s Doctor Roberts?’

  He crossed the room towards her in swift strides, aware of several things simultaneously. She had obviously succeeded in having a bath. Her dark-blue maternity dress was nowhere to be seen. Instead she was wearing a white cotton nightdress, high at the throat, the long sleeves demurely ruffled at the wrist. The wicker shopping-basket containing all that was necessary for the birth was on the floor near the bed.

  On her dressing-table was a pile of baby things. A tiny wrap-around vest; a winceyette nightie; a soft, hand-knitted matinee-coat; bootees; muslin inner napkins and terry napkins; a shawl. And when she said the baby was coming, she wasn’t exaggerating. He could tell from the barely suppressed hysteria in her voice that she was in extremis. If her fear got the upper hand now, it would be almost impossible for him to help her. He needed her co-operation. He needed her to help him bring her baby into the world.

  He said in a voice of quiet calm, a calm he was very far from feeling, ‘Doctor Roberts is tending an emergency. An injured child. He’ll be with us just as soon as he can.’

  ‘But I can’t hold back the baby, Leon!’ Her voice, usually so soft and husky, was hoarse. ‘The pains have changed! I’m having to push!’

  As if to prove the truth of her words her fingers tightened on the bars of the brass bed-head, her back arching off the mattress in a spasm of agony.

  Any last
doubts he might have had about the possibility of leaving her for the length of time it would take him to reach the ARP post and phone for an ambulance vanished. He was going to have to deliver the baby himself and he was going to have to break the news to her the minute her violently strong contraction was over.

  It lasted a full sixty seconds and it was the longest sixty seconds of his life. When it was over her face was bathed in sweat and her eyes were dazed. Comfortingly he took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘Listen to me, Kate,’ he said thickly. ‘Listen to me very carefully. There isn’t time to get you to a hospital or to get anyone here to see to you. I’m going to have to look after you, do you understand?’

  She nodded, her fingers tightening on his. ‘Yes . . . there’s another pushing pain coming, Leon! There’s hardly any time between them now . . .’

  She stopped speaking abruptly, her nails digging into his hand till he thought she would draw blood, her eyes closing as she battled with the pain; battled for consciousness and self-control.

  The second it began to ebb he said urgently, ‘I’m going to go in the bathroom to scrub my hands. And I’m going to take Hector with me and leave him in there. Having a dog in a room where a baby is being born can’t be hygienic.’

  She nodded, releasing her hold of him, drawing deep, panting breaths. It was going to be all right. Leon would make sure everything was all right. As long as Leon was with her she could cope. And soon her baby would be born. Soon Toby’s child would be kicking and crying and hungry in her arms.

  She heard the gush of the hot water geyser and as another overriding pushing pain contorted her body, she drew her knees up, her feet splayed wide and planted firmly on the mattress. In this position she could push easier. In this position she could hook her hands under her thighs and work with the pains convulsing her. It wasn’t ladylike and it wasn’t modest, but she was beyond such considerations. She was beyond caring about anything but pushing her child from her womb.