by Lynda Page
Ginger snorted. ‘Well, how selfish of her to try and stop her mother from having some happiness in her final years.’ Then Ginger gave a wicked grin. ‘I’m glad you helped the old dears and the daughter didn’t get her own way. So I take it you’ll be living in the camp for the foreseeable future?’
‘Well, I hadn’t thought that far ahead, just borrowed a roof over my head for tonight.’ She took a glance around the small chalet before she added, ‘Yes, I suppose this will be my home for the time being, at least until I’ve grown used to the idea I’m on my own now and can think more clearly about the future. Thank goodness I’m entitled to accommodation as a member of staff or I don’t know what I’d have done. Before the season ends I’ll have to make an effort to look out a bedsitter for myself, to live in over the winter months.’
‘Or a flat if you found someone else to share with you?’ Ginger said meaningfully.
Jackie looked at her for a moment before just as meaningfully she replied, ‘Do you happen to know of someone who’d want to share a flat with me … someone I like and get on with?’
Ginger grinned. ‘Happen I do. I know she wouldn’t say no to sharing a chalet with you either, as the chalet mate she’s got at the moment is nice enough but so pernickety. All she talks about is her wonderful boyfriend, who in fact is a twerp, so she’s driving me mad!’
‘Well, she’d better go and collect her stuff as I wouldn’t say no to her moving in tonight. In fact, I’d be glad of her company.’
Ginger clapped her hands excitedly and jumped up off the bed. She was just about to make a dash for the door when a thought occurred to her. Hopefully she asked, ‘Did you bring your record player and discs with you?’
Jackie shook her head. ‘It’s a scooter I have, Ginger, not a car.’
She tutted in disappointment. ‘Oh, it’s just that it would have come in handy for any parties we have in future. We’ll just have to make do with my transistor.’
With that she shot out to collect her belongings.
At that moment Jackie was very grateful for her busy job and the good friend she had in Ginger. With work occupying her mind during the day and Ginger hell-bent on getting her out and about socially in their free time, Jackie knew she wasn’t going to have much time to mourn her loss.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘Kids should all be drowned at birth, in my opinion. I think the government should issue a health warning against having them. Why any woman feels the need to dedicate her life to such a soul-destroying task as raising a child … who except for the very isolated case will cause her nothing but trouble and heartache … is beyond me.’
Jackie stared in astonishment at Sister Beryl Pendle as she soaked water into the makeshift bandage, caked in dried blood, that she was in the process of unwrapping from around Jackie’s injured knee. Beryl was a small, well-rounded, homely-looking woman in her early forties, appearing every inch the motherly sort, so Jackie had always assumed she had at least two children of her own. This admission from her had come as quite a shock. ‘But you’re a nurse!’ Jackie exclaimed.
Beryl responded matter-of-factly, ‘How observant of you, Jackie.’
‘But … well … as a nurse, aren’t you supposed to care for all humanity? And I’ve seen you when you’ve been treating children. You’re so good with them.’
‘Just doing my job. I derive a great sense of satisfaction from making the sick well again, but that doesn’t mean I want to take them all home and mother them. Some women are not naturally maternal. I’m one of them.’ Beryl stopped what she was doing for a moment and, with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, said, ‘I bet you wished the mother of the young chap who mowed you down on his bicycle had drowned him at birth, and saved you from being scarred for life?’
Jackie couldn’t deny that she had felt rather like that at first on finding herself unexpectedly sprawled on the hard tarmac while on her way back from having lunch in the restaurant. The pain emanating from her right knee was acute enough to bring tears to her eyes, and certainly too much for her to chase the young teen who had caused her fall.
Having been helped up by several campers, and finding Sister Stephens with a queue of people waiting to be attended to, Jackie had limped back to the office to wrap a makeshift bandage around her knee, to stem the flow of blood. She then took a couple of Aspirin to help ease the throbbing from her wound, and had not then found the time to visit the surgery until she’d finished work for the day at just after seven. By this time her annoyance against the lad who had injured her had faded somewhat. She preferred to believe his riding into her had been purely accidental and not on purpose.
She told Beryl, ‘I’m sure it was just an accident.’
Beryl said dryly, ‘Well, let’s hope for the sake of other innocent campers that you’re right. I’m married to a policeman. Like him, I believe all perpetrators of crime should be made to pay accordingly. Now, brace yourself … this might hurt,’ she said, and immediately swiped off the remaining bandage that she had been unable to unstick using tepid water. A chunk of dried blood came off with it, exposing a large gouge in Jackie’s knee.
‘Ouch!’ she yelped. ‘That stings.’
Beryl said matter-of-factly, ‘Well, I warned you it would.’
‘Yes, but you didn’t give me any time to brace myself.’
‘Oh, I don’t believe in prolonging the inevitable. It would have hurt just as much if I’d given you time to brace yourself. If you’d attended surgery sooner the scab wouldn’t have formed, so you brought the extra pain on yourself. Now, you’re going to suffer worse when I give your wound a clean with antiseptic, but it’s either suffer that or risk gangrene setting in and having to have your leg amputated. Your choice?’
Jackie couldn’t work out whether Beryl was joking or not, but regardless wasn’t prepared to take the risk. Clenching her hands around the arms of the chair, she told the nurse, ‘Just get on with it.’ And vowed that should she ever sustain any similar injury in future she wouldn’t leave it so long to seek treatment, and cause herself more suffering than she needed.
As she finally applied a liberal amount of Germolene ointment to the clean wound and began to dress it, Beryl asked, ‘Apart from your knee, how are you?’
Jackie inwardly groaned. It had been barely twenty-four hours since she’d walked in on her mother and Keith, and her hope that she could keep her break-up secret so as to begin to get over it before every Tom, Dick and Harry began to quiz her about what had caused it had been futile. How on earth they’d all found out so soon she had no idea. Presumably the fact that she’d started sharing a chalet with Ginger had been noted and the right conclusion drawn. Ginger was the only one who knew for sure and she would never have blabbed, true friend that she was.
In an effort to convey to Beryl that she really wasn’t ready to talk about it, Jackie said shortly, ‘I’m fine, thanks for asking.’
The nurse flashed her a look of understanding. ‘If you say so. My final words on the subject are: if you need anyone to talk to, or something to help you sleep, come and see me.’
Jackie gave her a wan smile and said gratefully, ‘Thank you, Sister.’
Moments later Beryl went over to the sink to wash her hands, saying to Jackie, ‘You’ll live. Come back tomorrow and let us have another look to make sure there’s no sign of infection. My medical advice is: in future avoid cyclists as much as possible.’
It was approaching one o’clock in the morning when Beryl Pendle settled herself back into the comfortable easy chair in the corner of the surgery after making herself a cup of tea to accompany the potted meat sandwiches and slice of fruit cake she had brought with her. It had been a very quiet night, only a couple of people consulting her when really they needn’t have if they’d bothered to use their common sense. She would have preferred to be busy as that way the time would have gone by much more quickly than it had, albeit she had managed to pen a couple of letters to far-off friends and read from cover to cover se
veral women’s magazines, ripping out a pattern for a Fair Isle jumper which would suit her husband and several tasty-sounding recipes she intended to try out on him, so she’d managed to fill the time pleasantly enough.
As Beryl folded up the recipes, she knew her husband was going to really enjoy them when she cooked them for him, and the knitting pattern would be kept secret for the time being so the jumper would be a nice surprise. She smiled as a vision of Trevor rose in her mind’s eye.
Trevor Pendle was tall at six foot three and heavily built, rather portly in fact, with a ruddy face, thinning hair and size thirteen feet. Beryl knew the locals on his beat affectionately called him PC Plod as he certainly did bear a marked resemblance to the character in Enid Blyton’s Noddy books. Not every woman’s ideal, but he was hers. Trevor was easy-going and good-natured, and treated Beryl like his most treasured possession. They had been happily married for twenty-three years, and apart from the odd little row over something trivial neither of them could remember five minutes afterwards, they lived together in perfect harmony. They shared so many traits, likes and dislikes, from their taste in food to what they preferred to listen to on the radio and watch on the television. Neither of them had felt any desire to upset the even tenor of their lives by introducing any offspring to disrupt it.
About this time, unless some inconsiderate criminal had decided to be active tonight on his patch, Trevor should be en route back to the station to take a break. Beryl had made up potted meat sandwiches and a slice of fruit cake for him too, but a larger amount. It was a standing joke between them that despite his age of forty-five, he was still a growing lad who needed plenty of nourishment. Their respective shift patterns meant that some weeks they hardly saw each other so time spent together was precious. Unusually they were both on nights this week, and during the long hours both of them looked forward to getting home in the morning and having a cuddle in bed before they slept the day away. Unusually, too, they both had this coming weekend off, something they were looking forward to greatly as they planned to take a trip in their Morris Minor to Lincoln for the day, have a browse around the shops and a good lunch in a pub before setting off back home. The weather looked as if it would be perfect.
Food finished and all still quiet in the surgery, Beryl laid her head back against the chair and allowed her eyes to droop. She wasn’t worried about being caught napping on the job as she was a very light sleeper and would be awake and alert at the first squeak of the surgery door handle turning …
Then suddenly it did.
Beryl bustled out into the small reception area to be greeted by a young teenage girl, dressed in her nightclothes. She was bent over, clutching her stomach, obviously in a great deal of pain.
Stumbling over her words, the girl groaned, ‘I’ve … a … belly ache. I think … me insides are dropping out.’
Beryl answered dryly, ‘I doubt that. Is it that time of the month for you?’
The girl looked non-plussed. ‘What time? Oh, you mean the curse? That’s what me mam calls it. I ain’t started them yet.’
That wasn’t unusual as girls could start them any time between the age of twelve and sixteen, and at a guess this girl was fourteen at the most. Beryl asked her, ‘When did you last eat?’
‘I ain’t today. Ain’t felt hungry. I didn’t eat much yesterday neither as I didn’t feel too good.’
Beryl thought, Thank God that rules out possible food poisoning! Chef Brown had been furious enough when accused of giving it to campers at the start of the season, which had turned out to be false, so she dreaded to think how he’d react if he were accused again. She feared the girl could have appendicitis, though, and if that was the case Beryl needed to get her to hospital quick before the appendix burst and her life was put in danger.
‘What’s your name?’ Beryl asked.
‘Teresa.’
‘Well, Teresa, have you ever had your appendix out?’
She looked blank. ‘What’s one of them?’
This girl wasn’t the brightest spark, Beryl thought. ‘I’ll need to examine you. Go through to the medical room and get on the bed while I wash my hands.’
A minute or so later Beryl found the girl lying on her side on the bed, groaning softly. ‘You’ll need to turn on your back for me to check you.’
‘I can’t,’ Teresa wailed. ‘I hurt too much.’
Beryl went behind the girl and eased one arm under her shoulders. She lifted up her upper arm, tucking her own head underneath so the girl’s arm was slung around her neck. ‘I’m going to pull you on your back and I want you to help me as much as you can. I’ll count to three …’
Teresa was well developed for her age, and not especially co-operative, so Beryl had quite a struggle to complete the manoeuvre. When it was done she stood at the side of the bed staring down at Teresa. The girl was not suffering from anything connected to her appendix. The size of her stomach told Beryl that she was pregnant, and her discomfort was caused by labour pains.
‘Your baby is on its way. Hopefully we’ve time to call an ambulance and get you to hospital. I need to examine you internally to find out,’ Beryl explained.
Teresa was gawping at her wild-eyed. She cried out hysterically, ‘Baby? Waddya mean, me baby’s on its way? I ain’t having no baby. I’m only thirteen.’
So Beryl had been a year out, but even so there was no mistake in her diagnosis of Teresa’s condition. ‘I can assure you, you are. Now I need …’
The frenzied girl blurted out, ‘But I ain’t been with no man so I can’t be having a baby.’
‘Teresa, it’s a myth that a woman can get pregnant after sitting on a toilet seat after a man has used it. There is no other way to get pregnant than to have sex with a man. Therefore you must have done.’
‘But I ain’t,’ she insisted. ‘Me mam’s always warned me I must never let a man touch me where he shouldn’t. I’ve only ever let the lad I met down the fair when it came to town last year touch me, and he was only fourteen, so that’s all right, ain’t it?’
Beryl inwardly groaned. ‘Did you not know you were pregnant, Teresa? Did you not wonder why your tummy was getting bigger? Did you not feel the baby move? Did your parents not notice the changes in you?’
At that moment a strong labour pain hit Teresa. She grabbed hold of the nurse’s hand, gripping it so tightly her knuckles shone white and Beryl feared bones would be broken.
‘Take deep breaths and let them out slowly. Keep doing that until the pain subsides. That’s it … keep going,’ Beryl ordered.
Several minutes later the pain had subsided enough for her to regain control of her hand and rub life back into it. It seemed the answers to her questions were going to have to wait. Beryl didn’t need to examine her to know that Teresa was in the second stage of labour and the baby was going to make its entry into the world in a very short time. Her mother really ought to be fetched but Beryl feared there was no time for that either. She then silently prayed that the birth would be a straightforward one with no complications as the surgery was only equipped to cater for minor injuries.
Just under thirty minutes later, the wail of a newborn rent the air. Beryl gave a huge sigh of relief to note with her trained eye that the baby, a girl, was strong and healthy. Her prayer had been answered. The birth had been straightforward, although more of an ordeal that it should have been for Teresa, with no gas and air to help her through.
Having cut the cord, cleaned up the baby and wrapped it in a clean towel, Beryl went to hand her to her mother. ‘Meet your daughter, Teresa.’
Terrified eyes looked back at her and the girl physically shrank away, as though the baby was contaminated with something deadly which she’d pass on. ‘I don’t want it,’ she cried frenziedly. ‘Take it away!’
Beryl spoke firmly. ‘It’s your baby, Teresa. You’ve had a great shock, I grant you, and you’ll need time to get used to the fact you’re a mother now. But the baby’s going to need to be fed soon and you’re the only o
ne who can provide her with the milk she needs.’
The girl looked horrified. ‘You mean, feed her like Mrs Withers next door feeds her new baby? No, no, I won’t do that! It makes me feel sick.’
Beryl sighed heavily. ‘I have to fetch your mother. She needs to be told about this and to take charge. You’re a minor and she’ll need to accompany you to hospital to have you and the baby checked over. Just a precaution. I’ve delivered enough babies in my time to know you’re both fine, but I’d sooner be safe than sorry. When your mother gets here, I’ll telephone for an ambulance.’ Oh, dear, what a mess, thought Beryl. She didn’t relish the idea of having to break this news to the girl’s mother, but someone was going to have to. The family had big decisions to make as the new mother was only thirteen.
‘Will you just hold the baby while I go into my office and telephone security to fetch your mother?’ Beryl coaxed Teresa, hoping this would help her to bond with her child.
Eyes filled with terror, she vehemently shook her head. ‘No! No, I won’t. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be a mother. I want to be a shop assistant when I leave school, that’s what I want.’
Beryl sighed again. She was getting nowhere with the girl. ‘Your future is for you to sort out with your parents. At the moment my concern is the future of your baby. Tell me the number of the chalet you’re staying in?’
Teresa stared at her wildly for several long moments before she blustered, ‘Oh, but yer can’t wake me mam up at this time. She hates being woken up …’
Beryl was fighting not to lose her patience. ‘Teresa, your chalet number?’
She finally muttered, ‘Four six five.’
Taking the baby with her, Beryl left the medical room to go into the office. One-handed, she took off the receiver, laying it on the desk while she dialled the security extension then lifting the receiver to listen to the ring tone for a minute or so before it was answered. She quickly instructed Bert Simmons what she wished him to do, replaced the receiver and returned to the consulting room.
