Incorrigible; the word stung me on her behalf. All Honor White had endured, and now she was facing a further two-year incarceration. Could the law really allow the nuns to hold her against her will?
I rebuked myself—for all I knew, Honor White might be choosing to stay at the mother-and-baby home, might have no other shelter. What could I say for sure about this silent woman, about what she’d been through, what she wanted?
Mary O’Rahilly was shifting around in the middle cot, so I turned to her and checked my notes. Seven minutes between contractions now.
I waited till I could tell by her face that it was over, then asked, How are you doing, Mrs. O’Rahilly? Did you catch a few winks last night?
I suppose so.
Do you need the lavatory?
Sister Luke’s only after taking me. Will it be much longer, do you think?
Her voice was so softly desperate, I could barely catch the words.
All I could say was Hopefully not.
(Trying to remember how long after the waters broke before the risk of infection skyrocketed; was it twenty-four hours? If a doctor didn’t come by soon, I’d send for one.)
Let’s get you a hot whiskey. And one for Mrs. Garrett. And a hot lemonade for Mrs. White.
Bridie started mixing up the drinks at the spirit lamp before I could get there. She brought the cups over and set them into each patient’s grasp.
Those graceful, swollen knuckles of hers; I wondered how much her chilblains were bothering her. Don’t forget to put more of that lotion on, Bridie, every time you wash your hands.
May I really?
Help yourself.
Bridie took down the jar now and rubbed a dab of balm into her reddened fingers. She put them to her face. I adore this stuff.
That amused me. Eucalyptus? My tram reeks of it every morning. You know it’s a vapour given off by trees?
Bridie scoffed: No trees I’ve ever smelled.
Tall ones, with their bark peeling off, in the Blue Mountains of Australia. On warm days, I’ve heard, they give off a perfumed haze of the stuff, a blue sort of fog—that’s where the mountains get their name.
She murmured: Imagine!
Honor White had her head back and her eyes closed. Praying again? I wondered. Or just worn out by her clogged lungs?
Mary O’Rahilly let out a whimper.
I asked, Where do you feel the pang most?
Her small hands clawed her back, her hips, her belly—everywhere.
Is it getting stronger?
She nodded, pressing her lips between her teeth.
I wondered if she had that craving to push yet, but I didn’t ask in case I put the idea in her head; she was the meek kind who’d tell one whatever she thought one wanted to hear.
Up, dear. Let’s see if we can ease that a bit.
I got Mary O’Rahilly into a chair against the wall and pushed just under her knees, shoving her legs back in their sockets.
Ah!
Does that help?
I…I think so.
I told Bridie to crouch down and fit her hands on the same spot at the top of Mary O’Rahilly’s knees. Keep that pressure up. If you get tired, sit down on the floor and lean back on her.
I won’t get tired, Bridie assured me.
Honor White was whispering the Rosary, gripping each bead the way a drowning woman might a life preserver.
I found myself saying, It just so happens it’s my birthday, ladies.
Bridie said, Many happy returns!
Well, now.
That was a man’s voice. I turned around to see Groyne’s head in the door.
He added, I suppose it’d be a shocking breach to ask which birthday?
I didn’t smile. Can I help you, Groyne?
The orderly pushed a metal crib into the ward on squealing wheels. Sister Luke said this might be wanted today for Mrs. O’Rahilly.
Delia Garrett made a small sound of pain and turned her back.
Was it the same crib that had stood ready for her baby yesterday? But there was no way to spare her such sights.
Ignoring my question, then, Nurse Power? Groyne sniggered. That’s an answer in itself. I find girls are happy to give the figure till they hit twenty-five.
I said, I’m thirty years old, and I don’t mind who knows it.
Ooh, a grown woman!
Groyne leaned one elbow on the door frame, settling in. I suppose you’ll be picking our next members of Parliament and all that. If you’re a female householder, that is, he added mockingly, or an occupier of a premises rated at five pounds?
My name had been down as the householder ever since Tim had enlisted, but I’d no intention of discussing my domestic arrangements with