on to the bed,’ she said. ‘I’ll fetch Mrs Milton.’
Barbara nodded, unable to speak as another contraction seized her in its grip. She held her breath, waiting for it to pass and then toiled up the stairs, made the bed up with the rubber sheet under some old flannelette sheets, undressed and put on her nightie. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her head down and her hands between her knees when Elizabeth joined her. ‘She’s on her way, said not to disturb the doctor yet, she’ll send for him when the time comes.’
‘Did you ring George?’
‘Whatever for? This is women’s business, nothing to do with men, not until it’s all over. Now, come along and get into bed.’
Her waters broke a few minutes later, and by the time the midwife arrived, her contractions were only a minute or two apart. ‘You’re only just in time,’ Barbara said through gritted teeth, as another spasm attacked her.
‘Nonsense, you’ve got hours yet.’ She was a big capable woman who was not prepared to stand any nonsense from her mothers, but she changed her mind when she examined her patient. ‘Seems like this one’s in a bit of a hurry.’ Barbara hardly heard her: she was concentrating on trying not to disgrace herself and scream. Between the spasms she heard the midwife instruct Elizabeth to ring the doctor.
The pains were thick and fast now, but neither Mrs Milton nor the doctor, who had arrived with commendable speed, seemed sympathetic. They were intent on making her suffer, urging her to push, telling her it wouldn’t be long now. They had been saying that for hours. Now she had to push, had to rid herself of the lump that was giving her so much agony. And then something huge and wet slithered between her thighs and the pain subsided. She heard the baby cry and opened her eyes to see Mrs Milton lifting it onto the scales. ‘A girl, six pounds five ounces,’ she said, then looked at her watch. ‘Half past eight, tenth of March 1921.’
The afterbirth was quickly disposed of and the new little life was cleaned and wrapped and put into Barbara’s arms. She had a daughter, a perfect, rosy-limbed baby, with tiny fingers which had a surprisingly strong grip, a red nose and a lot of dark hair. Barbara lay looking at the bundle in her arms and was moved to tears by the wonder of it.
Elizabeth came in, bearing a cup of tea, and stood looking down at the baby. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she said and there was a catch in her voice. ‘And she’s just like George.’
‘Is she?’ Barbara looked at her daughter, searching for the likeness, but she couldn’t see any resemblance to her rugged-featured husband, except the dark hair. ‘Have you rung him?’
‘He’s on his way. He’d been to a meeting, and was just about to come home, so you timed it nicely.’
George was over the moon with his daughter and it didn’t occur to him that being close at hand when she was born was any part of his fatherhood. They called her Alison Margaret Elizabeth.
Her father came in to see her the following day, bearing a huge bunch of daffodils. ‘From the garden,’ he said, stooping to kiss her. ‘How are you, sweetheart?’
‘Fine, just fine.’ She buried her nose in the flowers, visualising the garden at the farm, the borders round the lawn crowded with the yellow blooms. Impatiently she brushed the tears from her eyes and smiled up at him. ‘Do you want to see your granddaughter?’
‘Of course.’ He turned to the cot and stood looking down at the sleeping baby. ‘Except for the dark hair, she’s just like you. I remember the day you were born. I was bursting with pride.’ He turned to sit on the side of her bed, his own eyes moist. ‘I’m still very proud of you.’
She reached for his hand. ‘Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry.’
‘Goodness, what for?’
‘Being so bitchy about Virginia. I didn’t understand…’
‘But you do now?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
She wished their new house had been finished in time, but it was still some weeks to completion. George said it couldn’t be helped, he had to concentrate on the hundred and fifty he was supposed to be building because there was a time clause in the contract and he couldn’t afford the penalties for being late. So, like it or not, she had to continue living with her mother-in-law. But at least she now had