by Yeadon, Jane
I drove past occasional lines of cars on the road where drivers had run out of church parking spaces. I was surprised there were so many places of worship and all so austere in design they looked like grim sentries catering for a congregation that liked its religion neat. This, however, might not be the case in Fearn where its Abbey name spoke of pre-Reformation times. I’d missed the turnoff to the village, and taken the Balintore road instead. Hardly a minute later, I saw a Fearn Abbey sign pointing to a church on the opposite side a little way off the road.
I slowed down to admire the leaded windows set in weathered stone of a very old building. It wore the mellow look of somewhere which had survived far worse times than today, but the same couldn’t be said about my driving.
I realised that I’d just passed Fearn and would need to turn back. This allowed the faithful flocking out of church a wondrous sight of someone doing a very bad three-point turn.
‘Och well, it could have been worse. You could’ve run over some of the congregation,’ said Flora, reacting to my bad driving and timing tale. ‘Just come away in and forget it. It’ll only be the talk of the village until there’s something more interesting to speak about. Anyway, I’ve been telling my patients to expect a replacement.’ She added with a twinkle, ‘With my house stuck right in the middle of the village, everybody’ll have seen your car parked outside it so they’ll already know who you are and that you’re strange.’ She chuckled mightily. ‘To the area, I mean! Come on, you must be hungry.’
We sat at a table set out with a cold-meat salad. ‘I’m sorry it’s such plain fare but I wasn’t sure when you’d be,’ she said, and bent her head.
Too late, I realised that she was saying grace. Blushing, I put down my fork.
With a mischievous look, Flora lifted hers. ‘It’s a proper Christian act to come so early. It means I can get on the road before dark.’ She chewed on an egg so hardboiled it had black bits round the yolk. What would Dr Duncan say to that, I wondered.
Swallowing hard, Flora continued, ‘Miss Macleod’s great at sending us off on courses and I’m looking forward to going to Aberdeen. You always meet nice folk and as much as I love district nursing, it can be lonely working on your own. You know, even if the doctor runs his surgery from his house in the village, I’m more likely to hear from him than see him.’ She grimaced. ‘Sometimes I think we operate on parallel universes. Thanks to the bally answering machine, he can leave any old message for me but if I need to get back to him, it’s most likely he’ll be out on his rounds so it’s his poor wife who’s got to deal with my call.’
She finished her meal then shot up from her chair. ‘Now if it’s okay with you, I’ll give you a quick run through the work and then I’ll go. You’ll then get a chance to have a look around the village in the daylight and get your bearings. Look! I’ve got a map for you as well. It’ll show you the area I cover.’
When Flora left, the house felt empty. I was rather glad I was only covering for her district for a short period. Her patients mightn’t have the time to lament the absence of such a bright, friendly, energetic presence. I walked round the village wondering where all the people who’d come out of church had gone. The place seemed deserted. Only the odd curtain twitch and smoking chimney let me know that there was life behind the closed doors.
A modest little stone marking Fearn as the birthplace of Peter Fraser was more informative. It said he’d become prime minister in New Zealand from 1940 to 1949. How remarkable! In terms of history, I reckoned there must be someone here who knew either him or of him and how he’d made such an epic journey. But I wouldn’t find that out today so I returned to the house and spent a more profitable few hours poring over Flora’s map.
When the phone rang in the middle of the night, I was glad I had.
19
FOG AND ICE
The speaker on the phone sounded far too brisk for such a late call. ‘Doctor here. I’m sorry to call you but Mrs Vass has gone into labour. She’s not due for a week but she’s just rung and told me.’
‘Mrs Vatt?’ I could only mumble.
There was a brief silence, then with a forced laugh, the caller continued, ‘Ah! Flora’s relief. I’d forgotten she was away this week. Sorry, you must think this is a rude awakening, but you see the reason I’m calling is that Mrs Vass has such a history of quick labours she’ll need a nurse to go with her in the ambulance to Raigmore. I suppose you’ll not have had the time to find out where Balintore is yet?’ He began to sound anxious.
‘Actually, I have. It’s on the map Flora’s given me,’ I said, wanting to give a good account of myself and neglecting to say I’d nearly arrived there by mistake. ‘It’s only a couple of the miles down the road that takes you past the Abbey, isn’t it?’
‘Yup. Not actually quite as far as that. The Vasses’ farm’s just on Balintore’s outskirts. You’ll easily find it.’ He gave a brief chuckle. ‘I don’t suppose there’s too many lights on at two in the morning. Anyway, I’ve called Charlie, the ambulance driver, and he’s likely to be there before you, so look out for him.’
‘How old is she and which pregnancy is this for her?’
‘She’s an elderly multip – fourth kid. She’s pretty unflappable and she should be fine, but take your delivery equipment with you anyway. I’m sure you’ll get there before anything happens and we’ll maybe catch up in the morning, eh?’ without bothering for a response, he rang off.
Blast! I was so dopy with sleep I hadn’t even asked what the name of the farm was. I hoped the doctor was right about the lights and that Balintore wouldn’t complicate his directions with a flood-lit barn dance.
Piling into my uniform, I raced into Flora’s office, grabbed a delivery pack and stumbled out into the night.
Then I stopped, shocked. Clearly the doctor hadn’t looked out of the window, and neither had I. There was nothing but grey mist enveloping everywhere outside in a thick freezing fog. There wasn’t a breath of wind. Nothing moved. Time stood still. Silence. There were gravel chips surrounding the house, handy, Flora had said, for letting the village folk know she had visitors calling. Now as I stepped on those tell-tale stones, they merely muttered as if in disapproval that anybody was out and disturbing their peace.
The fog chilled by stealth. It was marginally warmer in the car but with a gathering sense of panic I saw that the ice-crazed windscreen had killed visibility. I got out of the car and in a state of fuddled anxiety breathed, then scrubbed over the screen. At some point later I might marvel that hyperventilation can thaw out frozen glass to make a vision porthole. Right now, I was just grateful it did the job.
I shot back into the car. ‘Right. Let’s go!’ I said, turning the key. The car engine coughed into life. At least something was alive in this frozen planet.
Thanks to the map, I didn’t take the wrong road otherwise I could have landed back in Muir of Ord or Tain to the North. I was sure I was making for Fearn Abbey, less so when the car wheels fell silent and went where they wanted. My heart thumped. Would I ever get the hang of driving on ice?
‘Turn your steering wheel into the direction of a skid,’ Sister Shaich had advised. ‘And going slowly’s better than braking.’
I was never completely convinced by her motoring advice. Anyway, she wasn’t referring to a situation where the midwife’s late arrival could mean a baby’s early one but in an ambulance. I accelerated. The fog pressed in. The car waltzed sideways. It was so near the verge it nearly hit the just visible Abbey sign, but at least I knew I was on the right road.
I drove at a crawling speed, aiming, hopefully, for the middle of the road. I was beginning to think that this nightmare would never end when I saw at last tail-lights seeing off the mist in a triumphant arc of red.
It had to be the ambulance. I made for it.
I drew up, wound down the car window and spoke to the ambulance driver looming out of the mist.
‘Charlie?’
‘Aye, by name and a right one by nature.
’ He was young with an open, sunny face slightly at odds with his rockabilly hairstyle. ‘We were beginning to think we’d have to send out a search party,’ he said. ‘I’ve already got Mrs Vass on board so as soon as you park your car we can go.’ He rubbed his hands. Maybe he was pleased to see me, or maybe it was because of the biting cold. ‘Delivering a patient to hospital’s one thing, but I’m not so keen on one being delivered here,’ he jerked his head at the ambulance. ‘Mind you, there was one last week…’
But I was too busy getting rid of the car that I didn’t wait to hear the rest. Anxious to get on the road, I raced back, but a large blue-dungaree-clad backside reversing out of the back of the ambulance blocked the entrance.
‘Ach, Jimmy, mind out – there’s someone behind you.’ It must be my patient, talking to her husband with affectionate exasperation, ‘And for goodness’ sake, don’t stand on her.’
I moved quickly, avoiding the big feet of a huge man stepping down from the ambulance. As he straightened up, he looked down at me in surprise then promptly shouted into the ambulance, ‘Och, Meg, it’s not the usual nurse and it’s a terrible night. Nobody sensible would be out in it. Why don’t I take you in the car? It’d be quicker and she,’ he nodded in my direction, ‘could look after the bairns.’ He paused, then added reflectively, ‘Even if they are a handful.’
The reply was swift. ‘First I’ve heard you say that. Anyway, don’t be daft, I told you Flora was away this week and of course you didn’t listen. You never do, but you’re right. It is perishing. Go on inside. You’ll need to get your sleep if you want to get the bairns up for school, and stop fussing. I’m sure I’m in good hands. Anyway, the last time you came with me to hospital you fainted.’
I passed the man, climbed into the ambulance and tried for a reassuring, ‘She’s going to be fine. We’ll take good care of her. It’s great you’re at home and she doesn’t have to worry about the family.’
He looked at me through thick National Health spectacles. ‘I wouldna be too sure of that,’ he said morosely and slammed the door shut.
As soon as he did, Meg moved from her sitting-up position to slide down under some blankets to make herself as comfortable as you could on a stretcher-covered couch, offering all the comfort of a park bench.
‘Thank goodness he’s gone,’ she said. ‘Honestly, that man of mine makes such a fuss he makes everyone round him nervous. I hope he didn’t off end you?’
I explained how I was only here for a week but already had managed to fit in an ambulance trip at a godforsaken hour in the middle of the night in thick fog, and all at the back of beyond. ‘And loving every minute of it,’ I concluded.
She laughed. ‘You could be like me and be in labour as well.’
‘Well, if I was I don’t think I’d be half as calm, but let’s see how things are before we get on the road.’
Her contractions, even if they were quite strong, weren’t bothering her, and the baby’s heartbeat sounded regular and strong. Neither the claustrophobic setting of the ambulance nor the weather conditions nor her own had affected her blood pressure. It was probably more normal than mine.
‘Right?’ called Charlie, then without bothering for a reply, he started the engine. It gave a full-throttle roar.
‘Well if the kids weren’t awake before, they’ll certainly will be now,’ said Meg with a mischievous glint in her eye.
The ambulance shot forward.
‘Fancy swapping places?’ I asked, thrown into the opposite couch.
‘Certainly not. To tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to getting my feet up in Raigmore. Labour’s never been a problem to me – there’s far more of that at home.’ She stretched work-coarsened hands before her and twiddled her fingers. ‘I can’t understand patients wanting an early discharge. Now they must have an easy life of it.’
She looked so calm that if I hadn’t felt her abdomen tightening to show she really was having contractions I might have thought she wasn’t in labour, a sentiment she shared, as she mused, ‘I hope I’m not a fraud, they’re only wee niggles but we thought it best to call the doctor and he said that I should get to Raigmore what with it being two hours of a journey from here.’
‘But maybe longer with this fog,’ called Charlie in full happy mode. The ambulance slid a little to the right. ‘Whoops. Icy! Did you feel that?’
‘No,’ I lied, striving to put mind over matter. Perhaps my stomach was heaving because we’d just skidded. I might have left those childhood Nairn-to-Dingwall journeys behind, but travel sickness still dogged me. The twisting road didn’t help and ambulance seating meant I was facing my patient, a position as conducive to nausea as those bus petrol and fag fumes of my past had been.
‘Take deep breaths,’ someone advised, or was I confusing that with women in labour? If I tried controlled and deep breathing it might alarm Meg, but she seemed to have fallen asleep so I had a go. Risking a cricked neck, I turned my head so that I could look in the same direction as Charlie.
He was going carefully and I supposed he was so familiar with the road he could cope with a windscreen that looked as if it had been smeared with Vaseline. It made the everyday shapes of bushes, trees, farms and homes look so dream-like it could have put you in a trance-like state, if you were a good traveller.
Deep breaths, I said to myself. Hang on. Look straight ahead.
Meg began to stir, then sat up and started foraging around.
‘Getting sore?’ I asked, stopping breathing.
She tidied her slightly greying hair behind her ears in an absentminded way and flashed such a brilliant smile you might have thought she was going on holiday. ‘No. I’m trying to find my knitting.’ Her voice was calm. ‘I don’t want to bother you, but I think it must be in the suitcase. Could you have a look?’
She was as pink-cheeked in her exertions as I feared I was a growing green. Any minute now, I thought, as another queasy wave engulfed me, she’ll suggest we should swap places. If she did, I might take her up on the offer.
Instead I said, ‘I’ll get it. No bother.’ I knelt down. If I look down for just a second, I thought, I really will be sick, and in this bloomin’ suitcase. By luck and blindly fishing around in it I came upon a bag with knitting needles and wool.
‘Keeping your options open? I asked, handing it over and noting that the Paton and Baldwin’s wool was yellow.
‘Uh huh.’ For a moment she looked at me in a considering way. ‘I’m not a gambler, but I bet it’s a boy. We’ve three already. Jimmy would like a girl, but I’m not fussy. As long as it’s all right.’ She swung into action with her needles. ‘If this journey’s long enough I’ll maybe get this matinee jacket finished.’
Instead of upping the drama of being heavily pregnant in a vehicle sliding all over the place, Meg was concentrating on her knitting. She was amazing. How could I tell her her midwife was so weedy?
I sneaked a sickness bowl hanging cup-like from a hook fixed to a shelf above me. I hoped she hadn’t noticed. The feel of chrome was as cold in my hand as the sweat gathering on my brow but at last we cleared the smaller roads and reached the comparative straightness of the A9. We were almost at Alness and the driver was speeding up. Even if the streetlights still wore halos of mist, visibility was steadily improving.
I wished the same applied to me, but despite there being more important things to think of, like a woman in labour by my side, I’d almost given up caring about anything other than hanging on to the contents of my stomach.
Just as we passed by Alness, Meg put down her knitting, then stretched out her hand and patted mine gently.
‘I think, my dear, we should get Charlie to stop.’
20
DELIVERY SERVICE
It was a surreal moment. I was outside the ambulance. The fog had completely cleared and now, under a chandelier of stars with a cold bright moon throwing light down on a bare countryside, I was throwing up.
Unlike here, where the surroundings had all the bleak
attraction of a surgical theatre, Charlie and Meg were enjoying a cosy chat in the ambulance. It all sounded rather homely and made me want to get back in again.
Shortly after, and clearing my throat as a sign of restored health, I rejoined the team.
Meg beamed. ‘Well, here she comes, and I must say, looking much better too. And, Sister, it’s a good thing you popped that plastic sheet under me before you left ’cos I think my waters have broken.’ She handed me her knitting, and before I could stop her, she had swung her legs over the side of the couch and stood up. As she stretched she added, ‘So, Charlie, maybe it’s time to put the foot down.’
‘Right!’ said Charlie.
‘Right,’ said I, ‘and maybe I should have a wee look, but I can’t do that unless you lie down.’
‘Right,’ said Meg, ‘I’ve never delivered in an ambulance before.’
I could have said that neither had I. It hadn’t been on my Belfast midwifery training syllabus where it hadn’t been an issue. Readily available transport had always provided quick and easy access to the maternity hospitals.
‘Had one last week,’ Charlie put in, ‘but yon Avoch nurse did cope, and fine.’ He chuckled in an admiring way. ‘She took it all in her stride and called me a right Charlie for fussing.’ As he turned on the engine, he checked his hairstyle was still in place.
‘I think he’s got a notion for the Avoch girl,’ said Meg, putting out a hand to steady me as we rocketed forward. ‘He was telling me all about her when you were outside. See if you can put a good word in for him, eh?’
‘I’ll do what I can, but let’s think about you for a change, shall we?’
