by Kate Eastham
‘You and that sewing machine – I could hear you treadling from the bottom of the stairs the other evening,’ admonished Alice.
‘Oh no,’ cried Maud, ‘I hope I’m not disturbing anyone.’
‘Don’t worry about that, Maud. It has a nice rhythm to it, and you’re doing good work for the hospital – nobody can argue with that.’
‘I suppose not,’ smiled Maud, holding out her glass again.
‘Steady on, Maud,’ laughed Alice, topping up her own glass, ‘or you won’t be able to walk home tonight.’
‘Oops,’ said Maud, starting to giggle. ‘Don’t tell Harry, I’ve been on and on at him about staying off the drink. And now look at me.’
‘Well, it’s good for you, Maud. We all need to loosen up a bit, once in a while. And you’ve been through a lot since me and Eddy came to meet you off that ship—’
At that moment the kitchen door burst open, and both girls screamed in alarm as a figure hurtled in, only to fall flat on the floor. To their relief it was only Eddy.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she grinned, propping herself up on one elbow from where she lay on the kitchen floor, still clutching her nurse’s bag. ‘All of my cases took a long time today, and then I had to help an old fella I found out on the street. His legs had gone and he couldn’t get back to his lodgings. But he lived up three flights of stairs, and by the end I nearly had to carry him.’
‘Are you drunk? Why are you on the floor?’ asked Alice, grinning.
‘No, I just tripped over a man’s shoe or something, out in the hallway,’ said Eddy, as she hauled herself up and clicked the door shut behind her. ‘What?’ she said, turning to grin at them. ‘I was in need of a lie down, after the day I’ve had.’ Then, seeing the brandy glasses, ‘You two boozers!’
After Eddy had removed her hat and cape and settled herself at the table with a glass of brandy, Maud and Alice told her what they’d been discussing, and for once she sat quietly, without interrupting.
‘Right,’ she said eventually, putting down her glass and then running both her hands through her hair. ‘Well, it seems to me to be a fairly simple decision.’
‘Does it?’ Alice frowned, as Maud looked hopefully across the table.
‘Yes,’ breathed Eddy. ‘All of it hinges on whether or not you, Maud, can forgive Harry for his past misdemeanours. If you can, then there is a good chance that you can both make it work and you can build some kind of partnership with him that will allow you to share the rearing of Flora and, of course, Alfred.’
Maud was shaking her head. ‘I just don’t know, Eddy, I’ve been turning it over and over in my head. When I see him, I feel the connection between us, and it either makes me feel drawn to him or incredibly infuriated by him, there’s no in-between.’
‘That’s understandable,’ said Eddy, matter-of-factly. ‘And it is possible that you’ll never forgive him. And if that ends up being the case, then you will have to devise some way of having a businesslike arrangement with him, because anything closer will be destructive for you both – that lump of anger and resentment will grow and grow inside you, Maud, and eventually it will kill all that’s good between you and Harry.’
Maud was looking down at the table now.
‘None of this is your fault,’ murmured Eddy. ‘But you are the one who will have to forgive, and that is not easy.’
‘But how can I do it?’ asked Maud, looking from Eddy to Alice.
‘Well, you could try thinking about it in a different way. Resentment is hard work, Maud, it’s something that you need to work at every single day – it’s exhausting. But you only need to forgive once. And then, if you stick with your decision and put the rest behind you, then you and Harry can make it work, I’m sure of it.’
Maud was shaking her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘It doesn’t feel like it would be as easy as that.’
‘I didn’t say it was easy,’ said Eddy, ‘but I can’t think of anything else that would work. Forgiveness is all, Maud. And it is there for you to give.’
Maud tilted her head to one side, as if letting what Eddy had just said settle there. Then she looked up and reached out a hand to her, across the table, swaying a little as she finally got herself up and made her way to the door to retrieve her cape and hat.
‘Maud?’ said Alice, twisting in her chair.
‘I know what I need to do,’ she called. ‘I’m going to go there now, on my way home. I’m going to tell him what I’ve decided.’
‘No, Maud,’ said Alice. ‘You’re not yourself, you’ve had too much brandy.’
‘I’m not drunk,’ said Maud, setting her hat slightly askew on her head. ‘I just need to see him, get this sorted out, that’s all.’
‘What are you going to say to him, Maud? Which way will you go?’ Alice asked anxiously.
But Maud just smiled and pressed a finger to her lips. She caught the concerned glance that passed between Alice and Eddy.
‘I’ll come with you, Maud,’ offered Eddy, already grabbing her cape and hat.
As they walked, Maud was glad of being able to hold on to Eddy’s arm. She knew that she wasn’t properly drunk, but she’d had more brandy tonight than she’d ever had in one go, so she did feel a bit light-headed.
‘This is it, this is the street,’ Maud said, stopping in her tracks. ‘Now will you wait here for me? It’s just that, whatever happens between me and Harry, I need it to be only the two of us. I don’t want him to be wondering about what you might think.’
‘I understand,’ said Eddy, glancing down the street. ‘I can see all the way to the last gas lamp, so I’ll wait for you here.’
Maud nodded and then wove her way along the street.
She stood gazing for a few moments up at the window, where there was still the faint glow of a lamp. The door was locked and she didn’t want to knock or shout up, so she searched the ground beneath the gas lamp for anything she could throw to get his attention. There were three seashells that a child must have been playing with, placed in a neat row. She grabbed them up off the ground and aimed at the window. The first one hit the right spot, but it wasn’t really loud enough. The second she threw with more force, but there was still no sign of a figure at the window. The third she threw with all her might, and it fairly cracked against the window. She saw the glimmer of a lamp being lit in the room below and hoped she wouldn’t have to wake up the whole house just to get his attention.
When she looked back up to Harry’s room, she could see, at last, the shape of his broad shoulders and the shadow of his head peering close to the glass as he looked out. She held up her hand to him and he disappeared at once.
Seconds later, she could hear the key in the lock of the outside door, and he burst out on to the street in his stockinged feet.
There was a split second as they both held their breath, and then Maud looked him straight in the eye. For a moment, her head was spinning and she couldn’t speak. He took a step towards her but she held up a hand to stop him. His eyes were round with expectation, and his breath was coming in quick gasps.
She couldn’t say a word. All she could do was stare at him, with her heart thudding against her ribs. She took a deep breath and felt a tingle all through her body.
‘Harry,’ she said, her voice firm and clear in the night air, ‘I forgive you.’
He took one huge stride and grabbed her. She could feel his heart hammering against hers as he lifted her up off the ground, crushing her body against his. Then he put her back down and she could see that he was crying. She reached up a hand to dry his tears and he leant down to kiss her full on the mouth.
Breathless, she broke away. ‘But if you do anything like that ever again,’ she panted, ‘it’s the end for us. Do you hear?’
Harry was grinning now. ‘Yes, yes, I hear,’ he stammered, and then he was lifting her up off her feet again and turning full circle with her in his arms.
And so it was that, on her next afternoon off, Maud found herself
walking to the big house to see Miss Fairchild, with Alfred and the dog at her side and her husband walking behind with the baby in his arms.
Harry stopped dead in the street when the baby whimpered. ‘Oh, I’m thinking Flora’s unsettled, Maud. It might not be a good time for us to go and see Miss Fairchild, not if the baby’s going to start crying.’
‘You’re coming,’ Maud called over her shoulder, turning to face him. ‘I’ve already written to tell her that I won’t be alone and to expect a surprise, so we can’t let her down.’
‘Yes, but Maud, she won’t be expecting this. What if she turns on me? She’s a fearsome woman is Miss Fairchild.’
Maud was shaking her head. ‘You’ll just have to be brave,’ she smiled. ‘Because there is no choice, Harry. If you want to be with me then everything has to be out in the open. I don’t want any secrets or whisperings. Not any more. Miss Fairchild has to know everything, and we will both have to accept the consequences.’
‘Well, all right, then,’ he murmured. ‘But maybe you should go in with Flora and Alfred, and I’ll just wait outside with the dog.’
‘No,’ said Maud, firmly. ‘You are coming in with us. I’ll take the baby and you can follow along behind, if that works better. Now come on, we need to get going.’
Cook nearly dropped her pan when she saw Maud coming through the back door with a baby in her arms. She couldn’t speak for a moment but came straight over to have a look.
‘Well I never,’ she said at last. ‘You kept this bonny little one quiet, Maud.’
Maud cleared her throat, a little daunted herself now that she was standing in the kitchen. ‘This is the daughter that I’m planning to adopt,’ she said. ‘Harry’s child.’
Cook narrowed her eyes and looked past Maud to Harry. He tilted his head to one side and raised his hands in mock surrender.
‘That’s a turn-up for the books,’ she said, looking back to the baby. ‘But what a beauty. So it’s a girl?’
‘Yes,’ said Maud, unexpected tears springing to her eyes. ‘Yes. She’s called Flora.’
Moments later, Maud’s heart was pounding so much, it made her feel breathless as she stood outside Miss Fairchild’s door. She knocked lightly and waited, but there was no response. So she tapped again and then glanced down to Alfred who gave her a reassuring smile.
As Maud opened the door slowly, the baby was starting to make little noises and wriggle in her arms. Miss Fairchild looked up from her chair, Maud saw her frown, and then she smiled as Alfred skipped over to her.
‘I’ve brought someone else to see you,’ Maud said softly, as she walked across the room. ‘This is Flora. I’m going to adopt her, just like I did with Alfred.’
Maud glanced behind to see Harry standing in the doorway, running his hands through his hair. She gestured for him to come through into the room, too.
Miss Fairchild tilted her head to one side. ‘Well, Maud, I knew when you wrote to tell me that there had been a change of plan and I wouldn’t be seeing Harry, that clearly there had been some kind of drastic happening. But I never expected you to turn up here with a baby. And it seems that you and Harry might even be reconciled.’
‘Well, the thing is,’ said Maud gently, ‘this baby … she is Harry’s.’
‘What?’ Miss Fairchild frowned, straightening up in her chair and glaring at Harry, before looking back to Maud. ‘Well, I suppose there will be some explanation that I’ll need to hear in due course,’ she said, at last. ‘But as long as you two are all right together.’
‘Yes, we are,’ Maud assured her, meeting Miss Fairchild’s unflinching gaze.
‘Mmm,’ said Miss Fairchild, her face stern. ‘In that case, all I can do is believe you,’ she said quietly, beckoning for Maud to come closer. ‘I would have known that she was Harry’s, even if you hadn’t told me,’ she murmured, as she gazed at Flora. Then she held out her arms. ‘Give her to me, let me have a hold. I’ve never been all that good with babies – I seem to scare them, for some reason. But somehow, I think that I’m going to be all right with this one. Oh, and look at her beautiful hair.’
Maud glanced back to Harry and smiled. He still looked nervous, but she could tell that he now saw that they’d done the right thing by coming here.
‘She’s called Flora,’ said Alfred, stroking the baby’s head. ‘And she’s going to be my sister.’
‘Hello, Flora,’ smiled Miss Fairchild. ‘You are beautiful, aren’t you?’ Then, glancing up at Maud with a glint in her eye, she continued, ‘Go and ask Cook to bring in a full bottle of sherry and some of her best cake. We need to celebrate our new arrival.’
As Maud walked back, with Alfred on one side and Harry carrying Flora on the other, she glanced over her shoulder to check that Rita was dutifully trotting behind. She smiled at Alfred as he too looked around and then stepped back to walk with his hand resting on the dog’s back. Taking a deep satisfied breath, she linked Harry’s arm. He was grinning now, and it wasn’t just because of the few glasses of sherry that he’d shared with Miss Fairchild. Maud had seen him visibly relax once he knew that no grudges were borne by any of Maud’s friends at the big house. What’s more, he had felt ultimately accepted by Miss Fairchild when she had taken him aside to discuss the inheritance that she’d promised for Maud and her family. He’d already murmured to her that they’d be able to get their own little house for Flora to grow up in, and where Alfred could stay when he wasn’t at school.
Maud had encouraged his thinking, and although she was still a little nervous at times about her future with Harry, she knew how he loved her and how he was absolutely sincere about his feelings for the children. As they walked back to the new rented room, close to the Infirmary, Maud started to look more closely at some of the houses they passed – solid brick terraces, with a bit of a garden. More substance in the world than she’d ever thought would be possible for an orphaned girl who’d started her working life as a housemaid. If all went well, she could see herself wanting to move into a place like that with Harry. And if it was far enough away from the hospital, no one need know that she wasn’t living a single life out in the city, like some of the other trained nurses chose to do.
Mirroring her thoughts, Harry spoke up. ‘That would be a nice house,’ he said, nodding in the direction of one with a blue painted door and fresh curtains at the windows.
‘Yes, it would,’ she murmured, giving his arm a squeeze and then reaching across to adjust the shawl around Flora’s sleeping face.
Alfred was skipping along behind them now, playing a game with the dog. He appeared at her side again, slightly out of breath, with his lovely smile and twinkling eyes. ‘Please can I hold Flora when we get back home?’ he said.
‘Yes, of course you can,’ smiled Maud, reaching out a hand to brush his hair from his face.
‘Hurrah,’ he called, falling back to keep pace with the dog. ‘Rita, Rita! Maud says I can hold my new baby sister.’
22
‘The good of an organisation depends on every individual who is in it. School, hospital, coffee-rooms, institutions, district nursing must depend on the living life and love which are put into them.’
Florence Nightingale
Some weeks later, as Liverpool withstood the grip of an icy wind from the north, a lone woman in mourning dress, complete with a fine black veil, made her way down a path away from a church. As she reached the lychgate where half an hour earlier the coffin of her father had rested, whilst she waited with the undertaker for the clergyman to arrive, the first snow began to fall. Individual flakes were sticking at random to the veil that she wore, making a delicate icy pattern that melted and re-formed as the woman walked purposefully away from the church where, bar the usual one or two church mourners, she had been the only attendee.
Behind the veil, Nancy Sellers was frowning and her mouth was drawn down at the sides. This was no pretence at mourning. She felt nothing for the man who she’d just seen lowered into that icy hole in the ground. She ha
dn’t been to visit him for years – not until she’d heard that he was dangerously ill in the Northern Hospital and she’d called by at visiting to take the key to his house from him. It had come in very handy indeed, all those weeks ago, when she could no longer bear to be in a house with a screaming baby. No, she felt no sorrow at the passing of Arnold Sellers.
With her mother long dead, Nancy had left home at sixteen after an incident with a middle-aged male customer in the shop that her father owned. She’d been working behind the counter and the customer had made regular unwelcome advances towards her, which her father had chosen to ignore because he didn’t want to lose the man’s trade. Although she was young, she wasn’t naïve and she knew what the consequences would have been if the man had forced himself on her. So one night, she packed a bag, emptied the safe, and left without a backward glance. She’d easily found work in a milliner’s shop and enjoyed helping the well-off lady customers choose their hats and think about colours. She’d worked there for a few years and become something of an expert, but in the end she wanted more. So she emptied that safe as well, one night, and didn’t turn up for work the next day. She’d heard about the Nurses’ Home and Training School from a customer who’d recently employed a private nurse who trained there. She’d been impressed by the promise of twelve pounds per year salary, and she knew that the best way to keep out of the way of any police enquiry was to have board and lodgings in a place that was completely closed to men. And, after all, who would question the moral fibre of a young woman who’d chosen such a noble calling?
The solicitor’s office for the reading of the will was conveniently close.
‘Please come in, Miss Sellers,’ smiled a slim, well-dressed man, introducing himself as Mr Samuel Chambers and showing her to a chair at the opposite side of his shiny desk.
Nancy prepared a teary expression before slipping the veil back and presenting a brave face.
‘Miss Sellers,’ smiled the man as he fixed her with his bright gaze.
