Full Circle

by Connie Monk

  Louisa was out of her depth. She knew nothing about pregnancy, although through the last two or three weeks, when a day hadn’t gone by without a visit from Bella, she had been regaled with descriptions of the unborn child’s energy, the way it twisted and kicked; she had had the ‘bump’ forced on her to feel how it was moving. Today it was still and Bella was feeling pains that must surely mean only one thing. She was about to miscarry.

  ‘I think we ought to get the nurse, or at any rate talk to her.’ Louisa made sure her voice sounded calm. ‘She may be able to reassure you. I’ll get her number. What’s her name?’

  ‘Wilkins. She doesn’t live in Lexleigh; she’s in Ledbridge. It’s easing again. Perhaps it won’t come back.’ And clearly it was losing its grip, for Bella’s breathing was lighter, even though the fear hadn’t gone. ‘Mustn’t lose my baby. Perhaps it’s my punishment?’

  ‘Rubbish. The nurse may say that when you get to the last month or so, this sort of thing can happen. The trouble is, neither of us know what you have to expect.’ As Louisa spoke she ran her finger down the Ws looking for a Wilkins in Ledbridge. There it was: 21, George Street. She picked up the receiver and dialled ‘0’ for the operator. The line was dead. She tried again, standing with her back to panting Bella and keeping her movements unruffled. As if orchestrated for the moment, a huge gust of wind brought a bough crashing to the ground from a tall elm by the garage, followed by a slate from the roof shattering on the ground by the kitchen window. She could hear Bella whimpering, something that might have irritated her in normal circumstances, but there was nothing normal about the afternoon. It had grown so dark that to read the telephone directory she had had to switch on the light and now, as if everything was contriving to add to the horror of the afternoon, the power was lost.

  ‘Lou, something’s happening. I haven’t weed myself, but something’s happened. I’m all wet and it’s on the lino too. What’s happening, Lou? I’m so scared!’

  Louisa was also scared, for in that moment she knew they had no choice but to face together what lie ahead. She forced her voice to sound calm and confident, even though her heart was hammering.

  ‘I’ve heard somewhere that you carry a lot of water when you’re pregnant. When the baby is coming, the water breaks. The phone isn’t working, Bella, but together we’ll manage. First thing is to get you upstairs and get your clothes off, at least from the waist downwards. I’ll help you. You and me together, there’s nothing we can’t do.’

  Bella was transformed. Her baby was coming; she didn’t care how much it hurt as long as it was well. Fear had gone from her expression; she breathed deeply and appeared not to notice a loud crack of thunder.

  ‘I don’t mind the pains,’ she breathed as another contraction gripped her, ‘I don’t mind anything if only the baby is born and well. I’ve prayed so hard it would be healthy. I mustn’t fail. I’ve got to trust. It’s no use praying and then not trusting. Let’s say a prayer—’

  ‘We shall both be doing that in our heads, but not down here. The Lord helps those who help themselves. When the pain loses its grip we must get you up to the bedroom. I’ll go up there first and strip the covers off, and find all the towels I can.’ And without waiting for an answer she ran up the stairs to the sparsely furnished spare bedroom and started pulling the covers off the bed. She had no waterproof sheet – all she could do was put towels over the mattress, but even as she brought a pile of them from the bathroom cupboard she told herself nothing she did could save it. But right now that was unimportant. Taking a quick look around the bedroom as she made for the door, she felt the whole scene was unreal. She hardly realized how, in the last few minutes, her fear had given way to confident determination. Bella’s part in the proceedings was obvious, although neither of them had any clear idea of what was involved. As for her, at this stage her mind was blank, but she trusted her own ability enough to be sure that, presented with any challenge, she would be capable of overcoming it.

  Back in the kitchen she saw there was something different about Bella. With one hand she still gripped the back of the chair while the other hand moved as if to hold the gap between her widely straddled legs.

  ‘What do I do? Help me, help me Lou, something’s happening. I can’t get up the stairs.’

  ‘Then we’ll manage down here.’ Her voice had to reassure Bella, so she made sure it sounded as if she were in control of the situation. ‘You’ll have to lie on the floor, but hang on while I get some cushions from the other room.’ It didn’t take more than a few seconds to grab the loose cushions then rush back upstairs for the pile of towels, but when she came back she found Bella half squatting, her legs wide apart, not even aware of how loudly she was grunting as, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, she was pushing with all her might.

  Help me! Please, God, help me.

  She held Bella under her arms and tried to take her weight as she guided her towards where she had laid the cushions on the lino-covered floor. Guiltily she acknowledged the thought that on this floor the mess could be scrubbed up, whereas had she been able to get Bella upstairs and on to her stripped bed the mattress would have been ruined. But there was nothing in her manner to hint at the way her mind was working.

  ‘I’ve got your weight.’ She heard her own voice as irritatingly cheerful. ‘Just let yourself drop on to the floor. Your head and shoulders can be on the cushions and I’ll put towels down to take away some of the hardness of the floor.’

  ‘Ooooohhh,’ Bella breathed, doing as she was told but now with her hand once again between her legs as if she expected the baby to drop into it. Once on the floor she instinctively bent her legs and parted her knees as if she wanted to give the baby space. She seemed not to notice as Louisa gently wriggled her soiled skirt and knickers off her and cast them aside.

  ‘Now we’re ready.’ Ready? Even as Louisa said it in that same over-confident voice, she knew that in truth she was anything but ready. But if she let herself go down that avenue she would be no use at all.

  The minutes passed in a series of grunts and suppressed yelps but no progress. Once again Louisa tried the telephone, knowing it couldn’t possibly be mended and yet half expecting a miracle. She had never felt so helpless as she did as she replaced the receiver and looked at Bella. How could she ever have believed her to be no more than an empty-headed girl? Just look at her now, fighting to bring her baby into the world on a cold kitchen floor and fighting, too, not to give way to what must have been terror. Was she still haunted by the fear that something was wrong to have stilled the movement she had become accustomed to? Whatever was in her mind, she was determined to be strong – so determined that a trickle of blood stained her chin from where she had clamped her teeth on to her bottom lip rather than scream. She had said she wanted them to pray and never in her life had Louisa prayed so hard for anything as she did in those moments, knowing herself to be totally inadequate for the task before her.

  As if in answer to their silent pleas for help, through the unrelenting noise of the wind and storm she heard a car stop outside, then the slam of the garden gate. She ran to open the front door, sure that by some miracle help had come. But the person hurrying up the path was Leo under the shelter of a golf umbrella.

  ‘Mrs Johnson said Bella was here. I’ll take her back in the car or she’ll get drenched.’

  ‘A blessing you’ve come.’ Louisa’s voice sounded different, the words tumbling out almost too quickly for him to understand. ‘The baby is being born. My phone isn’t working. Go and fetch the midwife, Mrs Wilkins, twenty-one, George Street, Ledbridge. Hurry. Hurry! The baby’s coming.’

  ‘But it can’t be. She has another month or so.’

  ‘Just go! Twenty-one, George Street. Bring her quickly.’

  For a moment he hesitated, not used to obeying commands. Despite the situation Louisa found herself enjoying being the one to despatch him so unceremoniously; she felt he deserved it for the way he had referred to Bella on his last
visit. Then, as he turned back towards the car she closed her front door and promptly forgot him. He couldn’t collect Nurse Wilkins and be back in less than three-quarters of an hour. She had always heard that babies took hours to get themselves into the world and the thought that experienced help would soon be here restored her flagging confidence.

  But coming back to the kitchen she could see immediately that this confinement wasn’t running to pattern. Sweat was standing out on Bella’s face as she fought her battle, pushing with all her might, blood from her bitten lip trickling down her chin. She took no notice of Louisa; she knew nothing except the agony of her torn body and the knowledge that at the end of her struggle she would have brought her baby into the world. Everything was aimed towards that moment. Louisa knelt in front of her, aware of her own inadequacy. She held her hands to touch Bella’s and felt them taken in her grip, glad to feel the girl’s nails digging into her palms.

  In those moments the acquaintance she had borne with patience altered. For them nothing could be the same as it had; a bond was formed in that hour that nothing could break.

  By the time Leo and the nurse arrived a baby girl was swaddled in a cashmere shawl which had belonged to Violet. When the nurse weighed her she tipped the scales at exactly five pounds but, although she was so tiny, she was beautiful, as beautiful as might be expected of a child of Bella and Leo. As for Bella, she gave herself up to the nurse’s ministrations, almost too tired to know what was happening, only conscious that she had never known such happiness. Louisa had concentrated on tidying her from the waist upwards, taking off her bra and blouse and replacing them with the top of a pair of her own sensible pyjamas, washing her face then combing her sweat-dampened hair. The stained towels had been taken away and replaced with clean ones, then a cover put over her as though the floor were a normal bed. The nurse had a busy hour ahead of her and wanted Leo and Louisa out of the way.

  ‘The storm is more or less over,’ Leo said as she led the way into the sitting room, ‘so as soon as the nurse finishes whatever she has to do I’ll run her home and come back to collect Bella and the infant. I owe you a debt of gratitude; I didn’t realize you included midwifery in your qualifications.’

  ‘I know nothing about babies.’

  He laughed as he answered, ‘You may not have this morning, but by this afternoon you can add “child delivery” to your credentials.’

  ‘This one delivered herself. And never look on Bella as a – as a –’ She floundered, uncertain exactly what impression he had given when he mentioned his young wife, but clearly remembering her anger at his tone, ‘an innocent child you consider beneath you. She isn’t. She is braver than you or me either. You can’t imagine what she went through, and with no anaesthetic. All I did was try and look as if I was confident everything would be all right. In truth, I had never been so frightened in my life.’

  Leo paused, and Louisa thought she saw a momentary flicker of something in his eyes. ‘I think we should wet the infant’s head, don’t you? Have you anything in that cupboard we can drink?’ Then, his dark eyes shining with merriment: ‘I say, this is my second visit. The first I ask for coffee and this time it’s alcohol. What will it be next time?’

  ‘Clearly you know where to find the drinks and I shan’t need to tell you where the glasses are. I’ll have gin and tonic; it’ll have to be without lemon or ice – we can’t go in the kitchen until the nurse says so. And you take what you want.’ Despite herself, she was starting to feel relaxed. She watched as he went to the cupboard and poured the same for both of them. ‘Thanks. Now we’ll drink to Bella. She’s a remarkable girl. She’s come in here most days, but this afternoon I saw a side to her I would never have imagined. Such strength of character. But you must know that better than I do. Have you two decided on a name if it was a girl?’

  ‘I’d not thought about it. She said something about if it turned out to be a girl it ought to be named after my mother. Dad would like that. Alice. I don’t really care, but it’s not a name that conjures up a picture of beauty. Still, perhaps it’s safe. If she turns out to be plain it’s no use lumbering her with a glamorous name.’ He passed her a cigarette and as he was lighting it suddenly gave her that mischievous smile she remembered from their first meeting. ‘Tell you what, she shall be Alicia. If she’s pretty that’s OK, but if she’s no beauty we’ll drop the fancy end. How’s that?’

  ‘Of course she’ll be beautiful. But both names are very nice.’ She heard her reply as being prim and humourless. Why couldn’t she have answered him in the same light-hearted way he’d spoken? However, he seemed not to have noticed. ‘The thunder may have passed, but hark at that rain,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘You ought to forget the idea of taking them home tonight. When I’ve finished this drink I’ll re-make the bed in the spare room for Bella. Then we’ll have to conjure up something for Alicia.’

  It sounded easy, but the truth was that the tiny creature had neither clothes nor a crib. For months Bella had been making preparations and everything had been brought to Ridgeway and put in the nursery bedroom, despite the baby not being due for another month. That must be for tomorrow, supposing the nurse gave permission for Bella to be moved so soon. When she’d booked to go to Britley Maternity Home for the birth she had been told it was usual to expect to be there for at least a fortnight.

  With the bed re-made Louisa looked around the room as if she expected something resembling a crib to appear. Then inspir-ation came. By combining the contents of the two drawers in the dressing table she removed one of them and laid it on the bed while she worked out the next stage.

  Deep in thought, she was surprised by Leo’s voice. ‘I can’t sit down there like a dummy. I’ve come to help.’

  ‘You’ve come at the right time. Go to my bedroom, Aunt Violet’s old room, and fetch the little armchair. If we stand it by the side of the bed in here we can rest this drawer across the arms. It’ll be quite safe and we can make a snug bed for Alicia’s first night. She has no clothes, poor mite.’

  ‘When I’ve brought the chair, I’ll drive home and collect up a bundle of stuff. Bella had everything in a case ready to take to the nursing home.’

  ‘Splendid. Make sure she has put in safety pins for the nappies; I won’t have any big enough.’ Then she was struck by another thought. ‘Leo, would you rather I got my own room ready? This is a special night – your first as a father. You ought to all be together.’

  ‘A kind offer, Louisa, but nursery living isn’t my scene. I’d be less than useless. And next thing my father would arrive to join in the fun. No, I’ll bring the things and go back to my parent-watching duties.’

  She knew he was right but his reply left her feeling angry and disappointed. Bella deserved better.

  At the sound of the front door slamming, then his car starting, Nurse Wilkins emerged from the kitchen.

  ‘Has he gone? Has he forgotten he’d promised to see me home?’ She spoke in a whisper and looked relieved to be reassured that he would soon be back. ‘I’m thankful he hasn’t insisted on taking her back home. She really ought not to be moved for a day or two. But you know what young people are like – think they know best even if they come to regret it. Sweet little soul, not a word of self-pity. Gritted her teeth and clenched her fists when I did the stitching. I’ll be back in the morning to get her washed and sorted out. And the babe, she’s bathed and had a cuddle with her mum, but there was nothing for it but to give that shawl a turn-about and wrap her up in it again. You say he’s gone for her things – I’ll see she’s sorted before I go. She’s had a go at the breast, but of course there’s no nourishment yet-a-while. Still, she got the hang of it, bless her.’ Ethel Wilkins happily talked on, albeit in hushed tones, requiring no answer. And that was probably as well, for Louisa was smarting under her reference to ‘young people’ as if, like the nurse, she no longer came under that category. Did she look older than her thirty years? After all, ‘young’ Leo was pushing forty – not such a spr
ing chicken.

  Twenty minutes and a cup of tea for the nurse later, the car returned. The house suddenly seemed to be alive with action: Leo carried a sleeping Bella up the stairs and into the bed, where she opened her eyes. Was she dreaming or was this happening? Where was he putting her?

  ‘… you’ve seen Alice?’ she whispered – or did she imagine she had said it? Her mind wasn’t quite her own yet.

  ‘Alicia,’ he corrected. ‘I’ll bring her up in a minute. See the crib Louisa has made for her? She’ll be right by the side of your bed.’

  Bella might not have been thinking clearly, but she smiled as her heavy lids closed and she drifted back to sleep. She felt safe; her world was perfect.

  Downstairs, the nurse prepared Alicia for her first night. Tiny vest, nappy securely pinned on, flannelette nightgown pulled down before she was cocooned in a shawl.

  ‘There we are, Daddy,’ she said in the voice she kept for new fathers and small children. ‘Now you go and lay her in that bed Miss Harding has got ready for her.’ Duty done, she looked around her at the once again restored kitchen (thanks to Louisa’s labour) and in a tone that conveyed satisfaction with her contribution to the last few hours, said, ‘Then I think it’s all fair and square down here so I’ll be ready to get on my way. Miss Harding has been doing all the cleaning up. What with that and the rush the little one came into the world in, my job’s been an easy one – that I must admit. Now just lay her in her cot on her back and drape that thin blanket over the top. Off you go now.’