Coming Home to Liverpool

by Kate Eastham

  ‘I do,’ smiled Alice. ‘But Harry adores you, Maud. Anyone can see that.’

  ‘I suppose he does,’ smiled Maud, knowing, in that moment, just how much she missed him.

  As Maud and Alice walked on, they passed an alley lined with buildings offering rented accommodation to those with means enough to afford a comfortable room. If they’d turned their heads and looked more closely, they might have seen the outline of a woman at the end of the alley, a private midwife, waiting to be admitted to one of those rooms. She’d been newly appointed by her patient, a Nancy Sellers, and judging by the wailing that was rising to a crescendo as the midwife stood in the street, the labour was progressing very well indeed.

  ‘Get it out of me,’ growled Nancy, as soon as the midwife stepped in through the door. ‘Get it out of me now … aaargh,’ she screamed, gnashing her teeth and flailing around in the bed.

  ‘Let’s have a look at you,’ soothed the midwife, used to angry responses from her patients but never having seen a woman with quite such a look of fury in her eyes.

  ‘Just lie back for me on the bed, that’s it. How often are the pains coming?’

  ‘How should I know!’ screamed Nancy. ‘Just give me some chloroform, will you?’

  ‘I don’t have any. You can only get it at the hospital.’

  Nancy emitted a low growl.

  As the midwife stood with her hand over the swollen belly of her patient, she knew that she was in for a very long night indeed. The uterus beneath her hand was showing no sign of another contraction, indicating that the labour was mid-stage, if that.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed quietly to herself.

  Through the watches of the night Nancy thrashed and screamed and moaned her way through one contraction after another. She got up and walked about, leant against the wall, sat down, rocked backwards and forwards, but nothing eased the pain that ground away deep inside her body.

  The midwife mopped her brow, rubbed her back and sometimes tried to hold her hand. But, after being pushed away and shouted at and nipped very hard on the arm, she took to a chair in the corner of the room and pulled out her knitting, leaving her patient to snarl and growl at her from a safe distance.

  Just as the first light began to peek through the window of the rented room, the midwife heard a change in Nancy’s breathing and she knew, at last, they were getting close to deliverance. She walked cautiously towards the bed where her patient lay sweating profusely, strands of blonde hair plastered to her face and the remnants of red paint from her lips now smeared around her mouth.

  With the next pain Nancy emitted a guttural sound, and then she was pushing.

  The midwife was all prepared. She couldn’t wait to get this one delivered.

  ‘Push,’ she urged her patient, ‘push as hard as you can. Let’s get this baby out!’

  Nancy was good at the pushing. Enough rage still burned inside her to really engage with this stage of labour.

  ‘Good, keep going, keep going,’ the midwife encouraged, until at last she could see the dark shape of a baby’s head.

  ‘God love ye,’ she murmured to the baby, and then she saw the tiny eyes and nose emerge and, as always, her breath caught in her throat, just for a second, at the sheer wonder of that moment.

  With a few more pushes the baby was out on the bed.

  ‘It’s a girl!’ cried the midwife.

  ‘Ugh,’ said the mother, ‘are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ laughed the midwife, as she expertly tied off the cord and divided it with a knife. ‘And she has a full head of black hair. What a beauty!’

  Swaddling the baby – the bonniest that she’d seen all year, without a doubt – the midwife took her up to the head of the bed for the mother to hold.

  Nancy just stared at the child and had to be urged to take her. The midwife had seen the reaction before, in women exhausted by labour. But even when the afterbirth was safely delivered and her patient was cleaned up and padded, she could still see that the mother wasn’t interested in her baby.

  It’ll just take her some time to come to terms, thought the midwife. After all, there doesn’t seem to be a father of the baby on the scene. But she feared in her heart that this bonny little girl, who hadn’t asked to be brought into this cruel world, would risk being sold for adoption or, God forbid, being left on the steps of the workhouse.

  ‘Do you have a name for the baby girl?’ asked the midwife.

  Nancy roused herself, gesturing for the midwife to take the baby and put her in the crib that lay ready next to the bed.

  ‘Flora,’ she said, almost as if it were an afterthought. ‘She’s called Flora.’

  7

  ‘I consider that it takes a full year, after the years training, for a nurse to settle down into efficiency … she has to learn neither to be bustling nor overwhelmed when there is a press of work …’

  Florence Nightingale

  Maud was awake early the next morning. She tiptoed quietly out of the room, collecting her bag as she went. Still in her nightgown, she shivered a little as she lit the oil lamp before slipping into a chair at the kitchen table and then removing from her bag a writing pad and an ink pen. She’d been meaning to write to Harry ever since she’d got back and the days were going by. She needed to get the letter sent; it would take at least a week on the ship to get to New York and then another week for a reply to come. Not that she was expecting him to reply. He’d never written anything – apart from a brief note to tell her what time he’d be back, or a betting slip. Anyway, that didn’t matter, she needed to write to him, so she flipped open the lid of her ink pot and dipped in the pen. The new nib scratched softly on the paper as she sat at the table, her nightgown glowing brilliant white in the lamplight.

  Dearest Harry,

  I wanted to let you know that we are arrived safely and our dear Alfred is already settled at school. We had a rough crossing and Alfred was fine but I did have some seasickness. I am now, of course, fully recovered and yesterday started my work at the hospital. I witnessed a terrible accident on …

  No, thought Maud, scrunching up the piece of paper, I can’t tell him that. Beneath all his bluster he can be sensitive, and he loves children. I can’t tell him about the accident in a letter, I’ll wait till I see him.

  Dearest Harry,

  I wanted to tell you that we arrived safely and Alfred is settled at the Blue Coat. We had a rough crossing and I was seasick but all fine now. I started back at the hospital yesterday and I was fortunate to be placed back on my favourite ward – Female Surgical. No questions have been asked, as yet, about my status but I have, of course, taken the precaution of removing my wedding band – I keep it safe, in my pocket, and will get a chain for it so that I can keep it close to my heart.

  I didn’t realize until I returned to Liverpool just how much I’d missed the hospital and the city – I hope that you will feel the same when you arrive and won’t miss New York too much. I’m lodging at Stella’s place with Alice and Victoria, they have made me very welcome, and I am content to stay here until you arrive and we can look for a place of our own – only just over three weeks and we will be reunited. I do miss you, Harry, and can’t wait to see you coming off the boat.

  Ever yours …

  As she signed her name – carefully, as always – Maud heard the door creak open, and someone gasped. Her hand slipped and the final letter of her name gained an uncharacteristic flourish.

  ‘Oh, Maud, it’s you, thank goodness,’ breathed Marie, coming through the door and grabbing the back of a kitchen chair to support herself.

  ‘Sorry, Marie, are you all right?’ said Maud, readying herself to stand up from her chair.

  ‘Oh, no, I’m fine, it’s just that …’ And then she started to laugh, trying to keep quiet at the same time, which made her laugh even more. ‘I thought you were the ghost of my great-aunt Jemima.’

  ‘Who was she?’ asked Maud, starting to giggle. ‘She must have been a fearsome woma
n.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t want to know about her,’ gasped Marie, pressing a hand to her heart. ‘That bloody woman has been trying to haunt me ever since the day she died, over thirty years ago. I’ve always known she’d be “turning in her grave” with the line of work I ended up going into. And one that turns in her grave … well … if there are such things as ghosts, they’ll be up there with the worst of ’em.’

  ‘Sorry to give you a shock,’ laughed Maud, ‘but at least I’m not Aunt Jemima.’

  ‘Ha,’ laughed Marie, shaking her head and making a move. ‘I’ll get on and light the fire,’ she said. ‘That’ll keep her at bay. It’s a bit cold in here, isn’t it? Oh, you’re writing a letter, are you?’

  ‘Yes,’ smiled Maud, sitting back in her chair. She checked that the ink was completely dry before she slipped it into the envelope. ‘It’s for Harry.’

  ‘That scoundrel,’ laughed Marie, turning up the oil lamp and slipping a woollen shawl around Maud’s shoulders. ‘Now give it to me. I need to send some letters of my own, so I’ll make sure it’s posted today. We need to do all that we can to feed the fires of young love,’ she said, taking up the poker and vigorously breaking up the cold cinders that lay in the bottom of the grate.

  Once the fire was lit, Hugo sidled in and stretched himself out in front of the stove. Seeing the cat there made Maud think about Alfred and how he loved to crouch by the fire next to Hugo. She felt a little sad as she thought about him getting up from his bed amongst a row of other beds occupied by Blue Coat boys. She knew in her heart that he would be fine, but as soon as she had a half day she would go up there to see him, just to make sure.

  Later, Maud reached down to stroke Hugo as she sat eating her toast at the table, with Alice making sure that Victoria had her breakfast. It made Maud smile to see the little girl clutching a finger of toast, squashing it in her hand with such a look of glee on her face.

  ‘You’re supposed to be eating that, madam,’ tutted Alice, offering her a drink of milk from a spouted cup.

  Maud started to giggle as Victoria turned her face away.

  ‘Stop it, you two,’ said Alice, glancing from Maud to Victoria.

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry, Alice,’ said Marie. ‘Give her to me, I’ll make sure she has her breakfast. And there’s not much point getting you dressed until we’ve done that, is there, madam?’ Victoria was screeching with laughter now as Marie pulled her off Alice’s knee and blew a raspberry against her cheek.

  Maud was ready to go. She’d made sure to have all that she needed organized and laid out the night before. As Alice got dressed she cleared the breakfast table and washed up the pots. And as soon as her friend was all set, they both kissed Victoria and waved goodbye, and then they were stepping out through the door into the alley with the cat trotting behind them.

  ‘Oh, he often does that,’ said Alice, seeing Maud’s puzzled face. ‘Shoo, shoo, you lazy good-for-nothing,’ she said, waving a hand in his direction.

  And to Maud’s surprise, the cat turned tail and made his way back towards the house.

  ‘He doesn’t usually do as he’s told,’ said Alice as they marched along, side by side, in their nurses’ capes and hats. ‘After all, he’s male. He’s a law unto himself.’

  ‘Hmph,’ replied Maud.

  As she walked, Maud glanced down at her cape. She’d sponged it and re-sponged it last night, trying to remove every scrap of dust from the street. She’d stayed up beyond the time she liked to be safely settled in bed, but it had been worth it, and she was proud of her efforts. There were no visible traces of the events of yesterday. What she felt inside, however, was a different matter; she’d dreamt about the accident and she’d woken thinking about Sue Cassidy. And now she was anxious to find out whether the dressing had stayed in place overnight and if it had been comfortable for the girl.

  As Alice walked quietly beside her, Maud could sense that she too was thinking about Sue. When they arrived outside the Nurses’ Home, however, Maud couldn’t help but feel a tingle of excitement. She halted with Alice at the bottom of the stone steps, looking up to the beautiful brick building with its ornate iron balustrade leading to the heavy wooden door. Maud couldn’t help but think about her first day as a probationer when she’d stood in the exact same spot, all alone with her small bag of belongings and her copy of Notes on Nursing.

  Alice looked at her and then took her hand. ‘Welcome back, Nurse Linklater,’ she smiled.

  As they both ascended the steps together and Maud pushed open the door, she had the sensation of going backwards in time. It was immediately wonderful to be in the entrance of the building, walking across the coloured floor tiles, breathing in the smell of the varnish. Maud felt truly at home.

  ‘Just one moment,’ she said as Alice turned to the pegs where they would leave their capes and hats. ‘I just need to do something.’

  Walking through to the open space, Maud looked up to the glass skylight that covered the heart of the building. She took a deep breath. In her moments of anxiety when she was new to the work at the Women’s Infirmary in New York she’d had to imagine this space. But now she was back, and as she glanced to the stone stairs and the two galleried landings that rose above, she felt the strength and the beauty of the building greet her like an old friend.

  ‘You’ve really missed this place, haven’t you, Maud?’ Alice called from the entrance.

  ‘I have,’ she said, walking back across the patterned floor tiles. ‘Much more than I thought I would. Now is this cap for me?’

  ‘Yes. I hope it’s got enough starch for your liking?’ laughed Alice.

  ‘It’ll do,’ replied Maud, placing it exactly square on her head and pinning it expertly into place, then taking a moment to straighten Alice’s cap.

  ‘I know, it’s limp,’ she laughed. ‘It’s a good job I’m not heading to Male Surgical with Sister Law. She’d definitely have a go at me.’

  Maud laughed.

  ‘It’s not funny, Maud. Even though I’m now a trained nurse, she still treats me just the same, hounding me about my cap and telling me I’m a daydreamer.’

  ‘Well …’ said Maud, tipping her head to one side.

  ‘You’re just as bad as her, Maud. One day you’ll be a horrible old harridan, just like Sister Law … and I’ll be a kind and very beautiful senior nurse, like Miss Ada Houston.’

  ‘Are you taking my name in vain?’ said a voice from behind.

  Alice clapped a hand over her mouth and flushed pink to the roots of her hair.

  Maud turned to face Miss Houston, her dark curly hair pinned neatly in place and her bright eyes shining with amusement. ‘Miss Houston, so lovely to see you,’ said Maud, reaching out a hand.

  ‘Good to see you back, Nurse Linklater … my protégée,’ she said, leaning in to give Maud a kiss on the cheek. ‘And you too, of course, Nurse Sampson. I know all about what happened yesterday and I can only say that I’m very proud of you both. As for the girl, Sue Cassidy, I’ve been on the ward this morning and she’s starting to come round. Sister Tweedy, on nights, said that she’s been asking for a drink and muttering a few words. She seems to have understood that she’s in hospital. But no more, as yet. She became distressed with pain, so Sister gave her a tiny dose of laudanum around six a.m. and she’s been sleeping ever since. I think when she starts to rouse, she will be asking questions. She might never remember the full details of the accident, but we will, of course, provide her with any appropriate information. Given that you were at the scene of the accident, Nurse Linklater, and you assisted Mr Jones in theatre, you’d be best placed to answer any questions that she might have.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll speak to her as soon as she’s ready,’ said Maud, tying her apron extra tight as she felt her stomach clench with the sadness of the situation.

  ‘I am, of course, desperate to hear all about your adventures in New York. You must come to my room at the earliest opportunity and give me all the details. The experience that you’
ve had over there, especially with regard to surgical nursing, is unique. My friend John Lampeter, the doctor who gave us your contact for the Infirmary in New York, he learnt so much from his time in America. Now I need to get going, I’ll try and catch up with you both on the ward,’ called Miss Houston, as she headed towards the door.

  ‘That Dr Lampeter,’ whispered Alice as soon as the door was firmly closed behind the assistant superintendent, ‘I have reason to believe that he might be more than just Miss Houston’s friend.’

  ‘Oh, Alice, you know what this place is like for rumours. There are probably all sorts of stories going round.’

  ‘No, I think there might be proof – well, not so much that. It’s just that when you were away, Miss Houston confided something in me that I think is significant. She made me swear to keep it secret.’

  ‘Well, you must keep it secret then,’ said Maud, straight out. ‘Don’t think you can go telling me or anyone else.’

  ‘I know, but isn’t it hard to keep a real secret? I just want to be able to tell one other person … and I can’t tell Eddy, you know how she is for opening her mouth when she shouldn’t.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it, Alice. You promised Miss Houston. You can’t tell anyone, and that’s that.’

  ‘But if I tell you, I know that you won’t tell anyone else.’

  ‘That might be the case,’ said Maud. ‘But, Alice, you promised Miss Houston to keep her secret. You have a responsibility.’

  ‘I suppose,’ sighed Alice. ‘And there’s something else as well. You know Dr McKendrick – the doctor with the chloroform?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do,’ smiled Maud. ‘I haven’t been away for all that long.’

  ‘Well, he definitely really likes Miss Houston. I’ve seen the way he looks at her—’