The Wartime Midwives

by Daisy Styles

  Picking up on Matron’s tone, Jones shook his head in seeming despair. ‘For the child’s sake, Matron, you might have to override Sister Dale’s determination to keep her under Mary Vale’s roof; as you yourself just said, she needs specialist care – and she needs it urgently.’

  Wide-eyed with terror, and with every instinct railing against what was unfolding, Ada took a deep breath and tried a softer, humbler approach. ‘May I accompany the little girl, please, Dr Jones?’

  ‘Oh, my word, we can’t have that,’ Matron said, with a phoney, indulgent smile. ‘Your services are required here at Mary Vale, Sister Dale.’

  ‘But … but …’ Ada babbled, at which point Heather started to scream her head off.

  ‘Matron,’ Jones urged, ‘I really must insist that we deal with this child right away.’ Closing his doctor’s bag with a decisive snap, he added, ‘Would you be so kind as to settle her in a travelling cot – make sure she’s well wrapped up, it’s cold out there,’ he warned. ‘I’ll go and fetch my car – please meet me out front.’

  Matron quickly nodded. ‘Of course, Doctor,’ she replied.

  Exchanging a look of panic with Sister Ann, Shirley abandoned her mop and bucket and hurried after Ada and Dr Jones.

  ‘I shan’t be long, Sister,’ he said to Ada, as he set off down the drive.

  Left alone, the two women turned to each other. Shirley was almost hysterical. ‘We can’t let that man take Heather! We might never see her again!’

  Frantic with fear, Ada cast wildly about for an idea. ‘How can we stop him?’

  Thinking fast before Matron appeared with Heather, Shirley frantically whispered, ‘You can drive! Take the gardener’s old van – it’s out the back. Follow Dr Jones: make sure he goes to the cottage hospital.’

  ‘And what about my shift? Matron will notice if I’m gone – we can’t risk it, Shirley.’

  ‘Gloria can drive,’ Shirley gabbled. ‘She can follow Jones! I’ll go and fetch her, and Em too,’ she muttered, as she took the stairs two at a time. ‘Stall them till I’ve got back!’

  Breathless Shirley burst into Emily’s bedroom, where she gasped in relief at the sight of both women with their feet up on their beds. ‘Come quickly: Ada needs you, now – Jones is taking Heather!’

  When the two wide-eyed girls appeared, Ada furtively pushed the keys to the van into Gloria’s hands. ‘For God’s sake, don’t lose sight of him: every nerve in my body is telling me there’s something bad going on.’

  ‘I swear we’ll not lose her,’ Emily said through gritted teeth.

  Almost in tears, Ada cried, ‘I’m sorry to do this to you both – please stay safe.’

  While Ada was issuing instructions to Gloria, Shirley had dashed outside to the car, where she was doing a great job of buying even more time, clucking and fussing. She must have rearranged the bedding in the carry-cot that Matron had placed on the back seat of the car at least three times. Growing irritated, Jones budged her impatiently aside.

  ‘Excuse me!’ he barked. ‘This is an urgent business. I really do need to get on.’

  Hardly able to take in what was happening, Gloria and Emily located the van; then, following Ada’s instructions, Gloria drove out of the back gate and on to the path, which, as Ada had said, joined up with the main road, where she could see Jones’s car just up ahead.

  ‘Pull your scarf well over your face, Em,’ she said nervously.

  ‘Don’t get too close,’ Emily warned. ‘We don’t want the old bastard spotting us.’

  ‘I’ll try and keep a safe distance between us,’ Gloria said, as she changed gears, and they sped on their way following innocent little Heather, who, exhausted by all the commotion, lay fast asleep in her carry-cot on the back seat of Jones’s car.

  33. Christmas Eve

  Emily was surprised at how empty the roads were.

  ‘Where’s everybody gone to?’

  Tensely watching Jones just up ahead, Gloria muttered distractedly, ‘Probably indoors decorating their Christmas trees.’

  The sporadic falling snow gave them some cover from Jones’s car, which the girls were puzzled to see turning off the main road – long before the turning for the cottage hospital.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Gloria cried. ‘You can’t get to the hospital that way?’

  Indicating right too, Gloria followed Jones, who swung on to the verge, where he pulled up. Thinking she’d been spotted, Gloria quickly reversed the van behind a garden wall.

  ‘Bugger!’ she swore. ‘Has he seen us?’

  ‘Pull back a bit further,’ Emily urged. ‘I’ll sneak out and take a peep.’

  Once Gloria was safely parked, Emily struggled out of the car and walked to the end of the wall, from where she peered out. What she saw all but made her blood freeze. Jones was handing the carry-cot to Sir Percival, of all people, who was parked a short distance from the doctor’s car in a clearly pre-arranged lonely spot. Terrified, Emily tried to slow her breathing so that she could catch what they were saying.

  ‘Matron said you’d know what to do with her,’ she heard Jones mutter as he all but shoved the carry-cot on to the back seat of Percival’s Daimler.

  ‘Did anybody follow you?’ Percival barked.

  ‘No,’ the doctor replied as he hurriedly backed away. ‘Nobody.’

  Obviously desperate to leave, Jones virtually ran back to his car, which screeched loudly as he drove off at top speed. Percival waited until the doctor had disappeared, then he too drove off, at which point Emily belted back to Gloria, who was already revving the engine of the old van.

  Gloria drove on, filled in en route by Emily.

  ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ Gloria inquired when she heard Emily give a sharp gasp.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, just a stitch in my side,’ Emily replied. ‘Shouldn’t be running around at this stage in my pregnancy,’ she said with a feeble smile.

  The country road was narrow and circuitous but at least it went only in one direction; the signposts all read GRANGE and CARTMEL, which baffled Gloria. ‘We’re heading back to where we came from,’ she muttered.

  About a mile later, as the countryside became more familiar and they recognized some of the landmarks, the penny dropped. ‘Percival’s heading back home,’ Gloria cried. ‘He’s taking Heather to Crow Thorn Grange!’

  Knowing that it would be too dangerous to follow Percival up the drive, Gloria parked Ada’s car behind some thick rhododendron bushes near the imposing metal gates of the Grange.

  ‘Stay here – I’ll creep up to the house and see what’s going on.’

  ‘No!’ Emily protested. ‘You can’t go on your own. I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Em, you’re exhausted; it’s my turn now,’ Gloria pointed out. ‘Watch out for anybody leaving – you’ll be safe – the van’s tucked well out of sight.’

  Before Emily could argue, Gloria set off through the undergrowth, leaving her friend peering out of the car window.

  ‘For God’s sake, be careful,’ Emily called softly after her.

  Back at Mary Vale, Matron could not have been more pleased with herself. She had remained there the entire day; she’d even been there when the Christmas tree, still covered in a pretty frosting of sparkling snow, had been delivered by the beaming farmer who owned Big Ears. Nobody could accuse her of ill practice this time, she thought smugly. Heather’s departure was seemingly nothing to do with her or her judgement. When Jones phoned to say, in a muffled, somewhat drunken whisper, that the handover was complete, Matron immediately put the phone down on the old fool; he’d done what was required of him and he was of no further use to her.

  Throughout the day Matron’s thoughts constantly drifted to Crow Thorn Grange. Would Olive, who’d been recalled for the task, handle Heather with kid gloves as instructed? Were the adoptive parents still due to arrive on Christmas Eve, as planned? If they did manage the journey on the snowy roads, she hoped that Percival would be sure to take the full payment fro
m them. He was turning out to be such a blundering fool – so disappointing in a man of his status. Noisy laughter and a sense of heightening festive excitement provided a timely diversion from Heather’s sudden departure; though nobody could fail to notice how upset Sister Dale was. She’d put her foot down good and proper, Matron recalled – for a moment she’d actually thought that she would seize the baby and bolt – but Matron’s timely professional chastisement had soon put an end to any silly ideas she might have had, Matron thought smugly.

  On the ward, Sister Ann and Ada were taking it in turns to comfort and reassure one another.

  ‘The tension of waiting is bringing on a headache,’ Sister Ann confessed.

  ‘I’m worried sick there might not be enough petrol in the van,’ Ada admitted. ‘Imagine if it broke down in the middle of nowhere and Jones got clean away with Heather.’

  Agitated Shirley came scooting by with Robin. ‘Any news?’ she asked in a nervous whisper.

  ‘Nothing so far,’ Ada quickly told her.

  Looking anxious, Shirley was dragged away by Robin to clip streamers on to the tree that stood in pride of place in the hallway.

  ‘We need an angel to go on top,’ the child called out.

  Sister Ann smiled indulgently at the little boy, who had successfully wound his way around everybody’s heart. ‘I hope his mother’s back soon,’ she fretted. ‘The last thing we want is Robin making a fuss and drawing attention to Gloria’s absence.’

  Robin’s mother, at that precise moment, was creeping up the snowy driveway that led to the Grange. Her bulky tummy made it virtually impossible for her to bend over from the waist, but, if she skirted the edge of the drive, there were enough sturdy trees and rhododendron bushes to hide her presence. When she reached the front of the house, she was surprised to find the Daimler wasn’t parked up there; studying the tracks in the snow, she realized Percival must have driven his car round to the back of the house. Still avoiding the open drive, she made her way around the bushes to the back of the Grange, where she stopped dead when she heard voices close by. Dropping on to her haunches, she strained her ears to listen in on a conversation that was taking place not twenty feet away from her.

  ‘Here’s the child; you’d better take good care of her,’ he snarled. ‘No slip-ups, like before.’

  ‘That were now’t to do with me,’ Olive snarled back.

  Recognizing the familiar whining voice talking with Percival, Gloria peered out through the snowy leaves, from where she got a brief glimpse of Olive. Gasping in shock, she ducked back down again. Her blood froze when she heard what Olive said next.

  ‘It weren’t my bloody fault that Bertie went and died!’ she snapped. ‘That were Matron’s fault for taking the poor kid out of the ’ome in’t first place.’

  As the pair bickered on the doorstep, Gloria’s head spun as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Bertie had been stolen from Mary Vale and removed to the Grange, where – Gloria had just heard with her own ears – the poor little boy had died. So what had happened to Baby Tom after he’d been removed from the Home? Had he ended up at the Grange, and had he died too?

  ‘Oh God,’ Gloria groaned in terror. ‘What’re they planning to do with Heather?’

  Trying to suppress the hysteria that was rising up in her like a hot wave of fear, Gloria headed carefully back down the drive in the fading light; if it hadn’t been for the brilliant white snow guiding her, she might have stumbled and fallen but, luckily, she made it back to the car with only a few scratches to her face caused by overhanging brambles. Relieved to see Emily safely in the passenger seat, Gloria hurried to open the door. When she saw Emily’s strained white face, she froze. ‘Em! What’s wrong? What’s happened?’

  Emily clutched Gloria’s hand. ‘My waters have broken,’ she gasped in fear.

  Without a second thought, Gloria jumped into the driver’s seat and switched on the ignition.

  ‘NO! NO!’ Emily cried. ‘We can’t leave – we’ve got to rescue Heather!’

  Ignoring her protests, Gloria reversed the car, then set off as fast as she could for Mary Vale.

  ‘Gloria!’ Emily implored. ‘We can’t leave Heather – please go back,’ she begged as she started to cry.

  Pressing hard on the accelerator, Gloria drove as fast as she dared in the falling snow.

  ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll go back for Heather – but only after I’ve dropped you off at Mary Vale. I need to think about what to do.’

  Events were in full swing at Mary Vale. Though Robin had shed a few tears when his mummy failed to turn up to dress the tree, he was quickly distracted by clever Shirley, who said that Big Ears needed a good grooming in readiness for the evening play. Shirley, Sister Ann and Ada had only one thought in their minds throughout the afternoon, constantly checking the driveway and praying for Heather’s safe return. Shirley, fearful that Gloria might not arrive back in time for the play and thereby cause Robin to have a tantrum, suggested to the edgy little boy that she could play the part of Mary, which outraged Robin.

  ‘You can’t be Mary!’ he loudly protested. ‘You haven’t got a baby in your tummy!’

  Grabbing at straws, Shirley said, ‘I know, but your mummy’s a bit too big and heavy to ride a donkey in the dark; she might fall off Big Ears and hurt herself!’

  Robin gave her a long, sad look. ‘I wish Mummy was here.’

  Frantic Shirley completely agreed with his sentiments. ‘Me too, sweetheart,’ she said, hugging the disappointed child. ‘Me too.’

  Driving back to Mary Vale, Gloria didn’t care who saw her arrive. Em needed help: that’s all she could think of. Screeching to a halt by the front door, she cried out to Ada, who’d come running to open it.

  ‘Em’s in labour.’

  Ada’s heart went out to poor Emily, sweating and exhausted in the passenger seat. Reaching out to take her hand, she said softly, ‘Come on, lovie, let’s get you indoors.’

  Yet Emily hung back, incensed beyond words. ‘Tell them what you saw,’ she cried to Gloria.

  ‘It was all a con,’ Gloria explained, as she hurried after Ada, who was supporting Emily. ‘Jones had no intention of going to the cottage hospital; we saw him meet up with Sir Percival just after he left here. Percival left Heather with Olive at the Grange. Jones is just the go-between.’

  As if winded, Ada gasped in terror. ‘What in God’s name are Matron and Percival up to?’

  Frantic with fear, and terrified of wasting precious time, Gloria blurted out, ‘I heard Olive telling Sir Percival that it wasn’t her fault that Bertie died.’

  Ada paled and swayed on her feet. ‘Bertie died!’ she cried incredulously.

  Desperate Gloria hurried on. ‘We’ve got to get Heather out of there before she disappears, just like Tom and Bertie did. I’m going back to the Grange, no matter what you say.’

  Though utterly exhausted, Emily grabbed Ada’s hand. ‘Don’t let her go alone,’ she beseeched. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  Seeing the pain in her patient’s face, Ada moved swiftly. ‘Let’s get you settled on the ward and concentrate on that baby of yours, eh?’

  Emily gratefully leant on Ada, who led her slowly down the corridor to the ward, where Sister Ann swiftly took the situation in hand.

  ‘You look worn out, lovie,’ she said gently. ‘I need to get you out of those clothes and into bed.’

  Before she disappeared behind the curtains that she was drawing around the bed, Ada quickly whispered, ‘Can I leave you to manage for a few hours, Sister?’

  ‘We’re fine, Ada, off you go – God go with you,’ she said with tears in her eyes.

  Ada gave her a brief smile before she dashed back to Gloria, who was pacing the hallway.

  ‘Em’s right, Gloria, you’ve done more than enough, I’ll take over from here.’

  ‘NO!’ Gloria loudly protested. ‘I’d wear myself out if I stayed here worrying about you up there on your own – please let me come with you. I promise I won’t do
any more dashing about. Please …?’

  Seeing the steely determination in her friend’s dark eyes, Ada sighed. ‘You could finish up in the bed next to Emily if you carry on at this rate,’ she said wearily.

  ‘We can’t stand here arguing when Heather’s life is in danger,’ Gloria cut in impatiently.

  Grabbing her cape, Ada said resignedly, ‘On your own head be it.’

  34. Sanctuary

  Fortunately, Gloria had had the foresight to grab a towel before she left the Home, and she laid it over the passenger seat, still damp from when Emily’s waters had broken earlier on. Utterly weary yet wound up as tight as a clock spring, Gloria thought wryly to herself, ‘Christmas Eve, the day Robin’s been counting down to for weeks.’

  ‘How many more days, Mummy?’ he’d been asking as soon as he woke up every morning and she would laughingly reply, ‘Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.’

  Now here she was, the day before Christmas, on a rescue mission to save Isla’s baby from what? Who knew? Only Matron and Percival knew the truth. Thinking about Isla made Gloria’s insides flip; Isla, in Windermere, was oblivious to what was going on just over the fells from her. She hadn’t a clue that her baby had been kidnapped and was being cared for by Olive, of all people, in an old rambling house on the edge of the dark moors. Ada dropped down a gear in order to ascend the bumpy and uneven fell-side road, which caused Gloria to support her swaying tummy with her hands.

  Incandescent with anger, Ada seethed as she drove. ‘How could they do that to Heather? Putting an innocent baby’s life at risk; driving her around the countryside in the freezing cold, poor lamb. I NEVER did trust Matron!’ Ada raged. ‘When Bertie and Tom disappeared, her excuses were too glib, too damn well rehearsed. Oh, Tom’s got measles!’ She copied Matron’s imperious tone of voice perfectly. ‘RUBBISH!’ she cried. ‘And only this morning some nonsense about Heather having a suspected fracture! And those wicked lies about Tom dying, when all the time he was up at the Grange!’