No, the two older ones were thirteen and fourteen, and the youngest eleven.
I flushed as I understood. For a priest to make such a comment—somehow both prudish and filthy-minded…Do you think they’d have been better off staying at home, Bridie?
Her nod came fast and unequivocal. No matter what happened.
Surely she couldn’t mean even if their father had ended up interfering with them? Bridie!
They’d have had each other, at least. At the home, they weren’t allowed to talk.
I was confused again; some kind of vow of silence? I said, The three girls?
Bridie explained: To each other, I mean. They were told they weren’t sisters anymore.
The arbitrary cruelty of that shocked me.
She changed the subject. So you and your brother…
I was only four, so I don’t know if anyone objected to Dadda rearing us on the farm, I told her. When I was seven and Tim was three, our father married again, a woman with older children. But I was still Tim’s little mammy.
Then something occurred to me.
Though I suppose the shoe’s on the other foot now, since I’m out at work like a mister and Tim’s at home planning the dinner!
Bridie let out a laugh. Nice for you.
I thought of this morning’s poster: refrain from laughing or chatting closely together. I said, Oh, believe me, I’m grateful.
Nice for the both of you, I mean. Having and minding each other.
Delia Garrett asked sharply, If you chums aren’t too busy, could I ever trouble you for another hot whiskey?
Of course, Mrs. Garrett.
Mary O’Rahilly was weeping silently, I noticed. Was it the pain or the waiting?
I fetched a cold cloth and wiped her face. Will we try you upright in the chair again, with more pressing on your hips?
But in swept Dr. Lynn, in the same collar and tie and skirt as yesterday. She said in greeting, Well, another day of battle, bless us all.
I hurried to collect the three patients’ charts, placing Mary O’Rahilly’s on top.
Delia Garrett cut in before I could say anything, her voice thunderous: I want to go home.
The doctor said, Of course you do, you poor creature. But the hard fact is, the week after delivery is actually more perilous to the health than the week before.
(I thought of my mother holding Tim for the first time. Thought of all the mothers on these wards I’d seen smiling over their newborns before they got the shivers on the second day and died on the sixth.)
Delia Garrett pressed the heels of her hands to her puffy eyes. I didn’t even have a bloody baby.
Dr. Lynn nodded. Your daughter’s in God’s arms now, and we must make sure Mr. Garrett and your little girls don’t lose you too.
Delia Garrett sniffed and subsided.
Next, the doctor listened to Honor White’s chest and ordered heroin syrup.
Breathlessly: I don’t take intoxicants.
My dear woman, it’s medicinal. We use it to calm a cough in bad bronchial cases.
Still.
I murmured, Mrs. White’s a Pioneer.
Dr. Lynn said, So’s my uncle, but he takes what he’s prescribed.
Honor White wheezed, No intoxicants.
A sharp sigh. Aspirin again, then, Nurse Power, but no more than fifteen grains, and hot lemonade, I suppose.
Finally the doctor scrubbed and gloved up and went to the middle cot to examine Mary O’Rahilly. I got the girl into position, on her side with her bottom hanging over the edge.
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere!
Dr. Lynn stripped off her gloves.
I helped Mary O’Rahilly onto her back. She stared down at the thrusting prow of her belly.
The doctor told me, She’s reached the pushing stage, so she may have chloroform now that there’s no risk of it slowing things down.
Mary O’Rahilly shut her eyes and made a low hum of protest as the pain came back.
On her way out, Dr. Lynn added, But do hold off near the end, won’t you?
I nodded; I knew the drug could get into the infant and impair its breathing.
I took the chloroform down from the shelf, dripped a spoonful onto an inhaler’s little pad, and handed it to Mary O’Rahilly. Breathe in some of this whenever you feel the need.
She drew hard on the inhaler.
I told her, You’re open wide inside, at last.
I am?
On your left is the best position, now, with your feet at the top of the bed so you can jam them against this pillow here.
I was moving bedding, tugging it out of the way.
Awkwardly, Mary O’Rahilly reversed herself on the mattress.
I’m going to tie this long towel just by your head so you can pull