by Anna Jacobs
During the ceremony, Saul Hinchcliffe looked as nervous as his bride was composed. His colour was high, clashing unbecomingly with the maroon of his new frock-coat. From time to time he eased his high, starched stock away from his neck, as if it were too tight, or he cleared his throat with a dry little cough.
Annie could tell at a glance that most of the guests were friends of the bride, local gentry, conservative in their tastes and members of the Established Church. They were sitting bolt upright in their hard wooden pews, disapproval writ large upon their faces. She repressed a chuckle. She supposed that they had felt it to be their duty to attend the wedding, the Colletts being so important locally, but they were not at ease in the bare little chapel. She could tell that from the way that they fidgeted and turned to whisper to each other. She looked at the flower decorations and remembered what the flowers had been like at St Mark’s, and the stained glass, and the carved wooden panels. If she had her way, that would be the church she attended, but it would upset her father too much if she left the Methodist fold, and she would not do that to him.
Although Saul, standing rigidly at the altar, believed that all men were equal in the Lord’s sight, he was also fully aware of how low a farmer’s son turned Methodist minister ranked in their guests’ eyes. He was somewhat overawed by the guest list and only hoped he would not let dear Pauline down in front of such august members of county circles. He glanced anxiously towards her as she walked up the aisle and took her place by his side. She gave him a reassuring nod and smile, before bending her eyes modestly to the posy she carried.
Pauline was wearing a cream silk gown and matching bonnet, with a light lace shawl around her shoulders. She had declared herself too old for virginal white and veils, and was only carrying a posy because her sole surviving aunt had made such a fuss about it.
Annie frowned when she saw what Miss Collett was wearing. Although the gown was of heavy expensive silk, it was not the colour best calculated to enhance a pale complexion and mousy hair. Miss Collett should have chosen a soft blue or green, or certain shades of apricot pink. Funny that with all her money she couldn’t manage to dress in a more flattering way!
Mrs Lewis would have stood out among the wedding guests for elegance, Annie decided, looking round at the guests, her eyes lingering for a moment on Christine Hallam’s unflatteringly fussy gown. But Mrs Lewis was still away in Brighton and consequently Annie was missing Ellie’s companionship. Ah, there was Dr Lewis now! He was not handsome, but he looked quietly distinguished, a true gentleman.
At last the ceremony was over. Annie moved outside through the little side door and lingered to watch the bridal party leave.
Pauline Hinchcliffe walked down the short aisle on her husband’s arm, savouring the fact that she was now a married lady, no longer to be pitied and excluded from intimate little conversations. She allowed Saul to hand her into the carriage and smiled triumphantly at the world.
For a moment, Annie thought, Mrs Hinchcliffe had looked almost pretty. She must be feeling happy. As the carriages started to drive away, Annie turned and walked slowly back to Salem Street. She was glad to have seen the wedding, but the day was chillier than she had expected and her headache was as bad as ever. She tried not to let her condition prevent her from doing anything, but inevitably it slowed her down. And she was feeling a bit depressed too. Ellie was away and Miss Collett – no, Mrs Hinchcliffe now – would not be coming to see her for a while, either. And kind though he was, you had to admit that Charlie was not the most interesting of companions. Thank goodness for Tom and her books!
The rest of the month seemed to pass very slowly. By the beginning of September Annie was very big and had lost all her energy. Even Charlie noticed how pale she was looking and began to worry about her. He brought home little presents, delicacies to eat or books for her to read. He tried to do things for her in the house, but she would rarely let him help and snapped at him sharply once or twice. He was so worried that he took his problem to Tom.
“Annie’s not well.” He looked hopefully at his brother-in-law, seeking help and reassurance.
“Well, she’ll soon be better,” said Tom, trying to jolly him out of his miseries. “It won’t be long before she has the baby an’ then she’ll be better again.”
Charlie wrinkled his brow in laborious thought. “Annie’s very tired,” he started again. “She’s not well.” His face lit up suddenly. “Get the doctor!” he said. “Dr Lewis. He’s a nice man. I like Dr Lewis. When my head hurt, he made it better.” He took hold of Tom’s arm and shook it to make his point. “Get the doctor for Annie!” he repeated. “He’ll make her better. You go an’ get the doctor. Go on! Get him!”
“I don’t know,” said Tom. “She’s only havin’ a baby. Women have babies all the time.” And die of it, said a voice inside him. Annie might die, like their mam had died, and where would you be then? He stood there indecisively for a moment or two, then he slapped his hand on his thigh. “Why not, eh? You can afford it, after all. Right, then, Charlie, I’ll go and fetch the doctor. You go home to your wife and wait there.”
Annie was sitting by the kitchen fire, sewing. Grimly she stabbed her needle in and out of the material, ignoring the pain in her head and the puffiness in her fingers. Charlie stood over her, fidgeting and watching until she could bear it no longer.
“For goodness’ sake, go and find yourself something useful to do, Charlie Ashworth!” she exclaimed at last. “You’re driving me mad, standing there twitching!”
He moved slowly towards the front room and stood looking back at her from the foot of the stairs with mournful, worried eyes. Then someone knocked on the front door and he hurried to answer it. Annie sighed and leaned her aching head tiredly on her hand. The next thing she knew, someone was taking the sewing away from her. She blinked up and saw Dr Lewis.
“Why didn’t you call me, Annie? You’re not well.”
“I’m not ill!” she replied crossly.
“You’re not well, either. You should be in bed, and that’s where you’re going.”
“I’m all right!” she repeated, but her tone was unconvincing. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”
Ignoring her protests, he pulled her to her feet and turned to Charlie. “You stay here, Charlie. I’ll have a look at Annie, then I’ll come back and tell you what to do.”
He looked at Tom, who had followed him into the house. “Will you stay, too?”
“Aye, I’ll stay. Me an’ Charlie’ll make a pot of tea, eh, Charlie? Make some tea for Annie and the doctor.”
Charlie, who was jigging about in nervous misery, snatched gratefully at this idea. “Aye, we’ll make some tea for Annie an’ the doctor,” he repeated, and began to bustle about. “We will. We’ll make some tea.”
How did Annie stand it? Tom wondered. The way Charlie repeated everything fair got on your nerves at times.
Jeremy Lewis carried Annie upstairs, in spite of her protests that she was quite capable of walking, thank you. “Be quiet!” he told her. “Which bedroom?”
“The front one, doctor.”
He pushed open the door with his elbow and walked in. It was still light enough for him to see the neatness of everything. The room had a curiously virginal feel to it, with its narrow bed and rickety chest of drawers, upon which a shell-covered box sat primly. One wall was half-covered with bundles of what looked like rags or old clothes, but even they were neat and orderly.
He deposited Annie on the bed, told her to be quiet and checked her pulse. Then he held her swollen hand in his and examined it. “Why didn’t you send for me before?” he demanded angrily. “I told you to send for me if you weren’t well, didn’t I? You said nothing about this when I saw you last month! You must have been feeling poorly then!”
“It didn’t seem serious enough.”
“Heaven preserve me from foolish women!” he exclaimed. “Not serious enough, when your hands and feet are swelling? And I’d guess that you have a bad head
ache, too. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” Her voice was low and tears were not far away.
“Get your clothes off! I want to examine you properly.”
She opened her mouth to refuse, then changed her mind and did as he had ordered, while he looked out of the window, tapping his fingers impatiently on the sill.
“I – I’m ready, doctor.”
In silence he examined her carefully, noting that the baby was a large one, but that at least it was lying in a normal position, and seemed to have a strong heartbeat. When he had finished, he looked down at her.
“Annie, you must surely realise that things aren’t going as well as they should?”
“I thought it was just – just the last bit. Emily says you always get t-tired then.”
“Well, you and Emily were wrong. Annie, you’ve got to rest, or you’ll lose the baby – and maybe your life, too.”
She swallowed convulsively and looked up at him. “Like Mam?”
“Yes, just like your mother. Some women are like that. But if you do as I tell you, you’ll stand a much better chance. Will you promise to follow my instructions?”
Without realising it, he had taken hold of her hand and just as instinctively she was clinging to his.
She sighed. “Yes. Yes, I promise.”
“Very well, then. Firstly, you must stay in bed.”
“But …”
“You must stay in bed all the time until the baby is born. You must do this! Is there anyone who could come in and look after you?”
“I don’t know. There’s my stepmother – but she has a family of her own to look after, and she’s not very – er – energetic. Perhaps – I don’t know – perhaps Sally Smith might help. She lives at Number Six. Yes – I think she’d help. And there’s Charlie, of course. He’s very handy. He’s looked after things for years on his own.”
“Right, then. Bed it is. Now, secondly, I’ll come and see you every day or two. The minute your pains start, you must send for me and wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I’ll come to you. You’ve asked Widow Clegg to come in and help you, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. She’s the best. I’ll tell her to send for me when your pains start. Now, you will rest, won’t you? Promise me!”
Annie lay back on the pillows, her face white and her eyes dull. “Yes, doctor.” Now that she had given in to her illness, she was glad to be in bed, glad to lie back and rest. She gave a long, soft sigh and he smiled down at her.
“You’re relaxing already,” he said, with his warm, boyish smile.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” She sounded surprised.
“That’s good. I’ll go and talk to your husband now. I’ll call in and see you tomorrow.”
Downstairs Charlie and Tom were sitting in front of the little kitchen fire with cups of tea in their hands.
“Is there a cup for me?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes. Cup for you.” Charlie bustled around and handed the doctor some tea in a pretty pink cup. He then stood and looked at him hopefully.
“Sit down, Charlie,” said Tom. “The doctor can’t talk to you when you’re hoppin’ around like a flea at the market. Sit down in your chair. You, too, doctor. Take this chair. That’s right. Now, how’s our Annie?”
“She’s not well, obviously. She needs to rest until the baby is born. There’s no medicine I can give her, but if she can just rest, really rest, no housework, no cooking, no sewing, just complete rest in bed, then she’ll stand a better chance. It’s very important indeed.”
Charlie didn’t answer, just sat looking trustingly at the doctor.
“Will that do it? Make her better, I mean?” asked Tom.
“It’ll help.”
“An’ that’s all you can do for her? We wouldn’t care what the medicine cost.” For this crisis had made Tom realise suddenly how much he had grown to care for his sister and how much she needed him. Poor old Charlie wasn’t up to much, though he did his best.
“There is no medicine for women like her. One day, when doctors know more about childbirth, perhaps … But at the moment, there’s nothing but rest. And that’s a thing most women can’t manage. Look, Annie said she thought someone called Sally might come in to help in the house. Do you know her? Could you ask her?”
“Aye, I’ll see her. She an’ Annie are good friends. An’ I can come in an’ help a bit too.”
Dr Lewis nodded. “Good! Well, I’ll call back tomorrow evening.” He drained the cup and set it carefully on the table. “Thank you for the tea, Charlie. It was good. Now, you look after your wife. Annie’s to stay in bed. You understand? No getting up. No housework. Just bed.”
Charlie nodded obediently. “Stay in bed. I’ll look after ’er. She’s a good lass, is my Annie. She is.”
At the door, Jeremy turned round and looked at the ill-assorted pair. Would they really look after Annie properly? A sixteen-year-old lad and a slow-witted old man! Should he stay to check that this woman she’d mentioned could help her? No, better not. He was late already. Mrs Cosden would have his meal ready. At least Annabelle would not be waiting for him tonight. He was looking forward to the time when Marianne would be old enough to dine with them. Her chatter might help fill the awkward silences. He contented himself with repeating his warning that he was to be called the minute Annie started having the baby and then he left.
Two weeks later Annie’s pains began, a couple of weeks earlier than expected. Emily, who was with her at the time, sent out for Widow Clegg.
“Has tha sent for t’doctor?” asked the widow, as she stumped up the stairs.
“Nay,” protested Emily. “She’s only havin’ a baby, an’ she’s hardly got started yet. What d’you want t’send for ’im for?”
“He said to send for ’im straight away,” insisted Widow Clegg. “And he allus means what he says. Tha’d best send.”
“But it’ll cost money!”
“They’ve got the money. Send for ’im!”
Dr Lewis arrived half an hour later, nodded to the women and went upstairs. He smiled down at Annie, lying uncomfortably in the bed. “Last bit. Nearly over now,” he said encouragingly.
She managed a smile. “Yes. I’ll be glad to have it over with.” Now that he was here, she felt much more confident.
The widow had followed him up. “She’ll not be havin’ it yet a bit. I s’all have t’go an’ get tea for me lodgers.”
“That’s all right. I’m here to stay now till it’s over.” Jeremy smiled down at Annie. “You go and do what you have to, Mrs Clegg. I want to see my experiment through.”
Widow Clegg clattered off down the stairs.
“Her clogs always make more noise than anyone else’s,” Annie whispered.
Jeremy grinned. “Much more noise.”
The widow stopped to peer into the back room and say, “Your Annie’ll be a long while yet,” to Emily and Sally, who were sitting waiting. “The doctor’s stoppin’ with ’er.”
“Is she that bad?” gasped Emily, who equated doctors’ visits with death or serious injury.
“No, not bad. But not well, neither. She takes after ’er mother that way.” The widow folded her shawl carefully around her head to give her some protection from the rain that had been falling all day. “He’s a good doctor,” she admitted grudgingly. “He’s saved some as I’d given up for dead.”
Emily shrugged her shoulders. She had no faith in doctors and thought Annie was making a fuss about nothing. She’d never had the doctor to any of her birthings, no, nor ever would want a man to see her like that. “Can you stay for a bit?” she asked Sally, whose company she was now tolerating because she didn’t want to be left with the job of looking after two households. “I have t’get tea for my John, an’ if I leave them kids for long, they’ll get at the bread. Little devils, they are! You no sooner fill their bellies than they’re hungry again!”
“Yes, I can stay for a bit,” said Sally easily, and watched Emily scurry o
ff. The second Mrs Gibson would be late for her own funeral, she thought with a grin. She didn’t like to interrupt while the doctor was with Annie, so she did a bit of cleaning up downstairs. When she could find nothing else to do, she went and listened at the foot of the stairs, but could hear nothing.
Upstairs Annie had lost a lot of her shyness and was chatting to Dr Lewis about her plans for the future with more animation than he’d seen in her face in weeks. The pains weren’t bad yet and she was hoping for a good birth, with Dr Lewis to help her.
Jeremy encouraged her to chat and they went on to exchange opinions of the servants at Park House. He made her laugh out loud several times.
He noticed more than you thought, she realised. The only person he didn’t mention was his wife.
Sally, downstairs, marvelled that they could find something to laugh about at a time like this. She’d had a baby once and it’d been born dead after several hours of agony. She hadn’t fallen for one since and was glad of it, too. They hurt to bear and they were a burden on you for years. She’d never have got where she was now if she’d had a bunch of kids to look after. And as for being the comfort of your old age, your children were as likely as not to put you in the union poorhouse because they hadn’t the space to lodge you or the food to keep you alive. Give her the comfort of owning a few cottages any day!
Charlie came home from his rounds just as Sally was getting restless. Her gentleman friend was due that evening.
“The baby’s started,” she told him. “The doctor’s with her now.” His face paled. He gave her a strange look and went to sit by the fire, all hunched up in his chair and rocking slightly. You couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor old sod. “Annie’s all right, you know,” she said gently. “An’ he’s a good doctor.”
“Mmm.”
“Look, why don’t you pop up an’ see her for a minute?”
He shook his head and rocked harder, so she shrugged and left him to it.
