City Woman (23 page)

She checked her watch. Almost midday. The twins were at summer school until twelve-thirty so she’d have Shona to herself for half an hour. She was dying to feel the little arms around her
neck and to smell the lovely sweet baby scent of her and have her soft blonde curls tickling her cheeks. Maggie loved her youngest daughter’s hair. It was like spun gold, so soft and fine.
Devlin’s baby had had hair like that, she remembered sadly. Poor Devlin, she had pitied her so much at Lynn’s grave. Devlin would never get over her baby’s death. No mother would.
God grant that her three would live to grow up healthy and strong. Rooting in her bag for her keys, she remembered the chocolates she had bought for Josie, her baby-minder. Josie had been great
about her long weekend. ‘I’m home,’ she announced cheerily, letting herself in. ‘Josie, Shona, I’m home.’

The house seemed strangely quiet. ‘Josie. Shona,’ she called heading into the kitchen. They must be out the back, she decided, but a frisson of uneasiness disturbed her. She
couldn’t explain it but she just knew something was wrong. There was no-one out the back, just a line of clothes fluttering in the breeze. Maybe Josie had taken the baby for a walk or on a
trip to the shops. Yet Maggie had told her child-minder she’d be home before noon to collect the twins from their summer school. Her eye caught the note on the kitchen table and she read it
with dismay. ‘Oh Christ Almighty!’ she groaned. Why this weekend when she wasn’t here? Of all weekends in the year for this to happen . . . God, she should have known she
couldn’t expect to go off with the girls and get away scot-free. Terry would really go on about it now. Maggie read the note again with a sinking heart. ‘God, please don’t let it
be anything serious,’ she murmured aloud as she headed back out to the car. Her heart was beating fast and her palms were sweaty as she got behind the wheel and scorched down the drive and
back in the direction from which she had just come.

Nineteen

‘Pneumonia!’ Maggie was aghast.

‘And tonsillitis,’ Terry added grimly.

They were standing in the corridor outside the casualty ward in Temple Street Children’s Hospital. Maggie shook her head in disbelief. Shona had had the sniffles on the Friday before
Maggie left but she’d been playing happily. She’d certainly had no temperature. ‘How did she get that?’ She spoke to herself more than to Terry.

‘Don’t ask me. You’re the nurse . . .’ her husband retorted sarcastically.

‘There’s no need for that, Terry,’ Maggie said sharply.

‘Well, if you hadn’t been gadding about down in Wexford, you might have been able to prevent it.’ Terry glared at his wife. ‘I don’t know what to do with
temperatures and coughs. You do. You weren’t here and I was left on my own with them. And it’s just not on, Maggie.’ Her husband’s voice rose and people looked curiously in
their direction.

‘Oh for God’s sake, Terry, don’t start here.’ Maggie struggled to suppress the fury and resentment that surged through her. What was she? A one-parent family, for crying
out loud! He was the father; that meant taking half the responsibility. But Terry never saw it like that. As long as he provided for them, that was his job done. Let Maggie look after everything
else.

She felt like crying. All the euphoria of the morning evaporated and a weariness of spirit pervaded every inch of her. ‘Where’s Shona?’ she asked dispiritedly. ‘Tell me
what happened.’

‘I just came out to have a fag; she was seen by a doctor only twenty minutes ago. This place is packed. The nurses are sponging her down. They’re waiting for a bed up in one of the
wards. She was very hot and flushed and restless all night. I gave her Calpol but it didn’t help. I phoned you early this morning but there was no answer; so I brought her here as soon as
Josie arrived. I figured it was the best thing to do, rather than waiting for a doctor to come. I had to cancel an important meeting this morning because of it, too,’ he added, accusingly.
‘Where were you this morning anyway? I rang at eight-thirty. It couldn’t have taken you all this time to get home, even with Caroline driving.’

‘We went for a swim, Terry; that’s where I was at half eight this morning,’ Maggie faced her husband squarely. Damned if she was going to let him make her feel guilty. She
moved down towards the ward and as she got there she could hear a pitiful little voice saying, ‘I want my Mammy. Where’s my Mammy?’

Burning daggers of guilt stabbed her heart. It was Shona.

‘She’s been calling for you all night and all morning.’ Terry twisted the knife with pleasure, heaping the coals of guilt on her head. While she was swimming languidly in the
clear warm waters off Devlin’s private little beach, Shona had been burning up with a fever and calling for her.

She swallowed hard and went over to where Shona lay quietly with just a nappy on. Her blonde curls stuck damply to her head, her face was flushed, her eyes bright with fever. She lay submissive
to the ministrations of the nurse who was sponging her down.

‘Hello, baby, hello, my pet.’ Maggie leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. It was burning to the touch. Shona reached out her arms to her and Maggie took her up and
cuddled her and whispered endearments. The toddler laid her head limply on her mother’s shoulder and Maggie could feel the heat from her body.

‘How high is her temp?’ she asked the young student nurse.

‘Almost forty. We’ve given her a suppository to try and bring it down. She’s had a chest X-ray, and she’s for admission. She’s a bit dehydrated so they’ll be
putting her on a saline drip as soon as we get a doctor available,’ the nurse said. Maggie’s heart sank at the thought of the drip. She couldn’t bear the thought of the needle
piercing her baby’s vein. As a nurse, she had never been squeamish about giving needles to adults but children were another matter.

The twins had so far avoided hospital and apart from the odd temperature and cold had never been sick. Having her child in hospital was a new experience for Maggie, and none of her nursing
experience was of any help to her. She couldn’t think rationally. All she knew was that her child had pneumonia and a temperature of forty, which, if they didn’t get it down, could
result in convulsions, and she felt very apprehensive and helpless. People often said to her, ‘Ah sure, it’s great you’re a nurse; you know what to do.’ And in any emergency
she
would
know and deal with matters competently and professionally. But when it was your own child it was a different thing and all her competence and professionalism were in danger of
deserting her completely at this very minute.

She drew a deep breath and laid Shona back on the bed. ‘I’m a nurse myself. I’ll take over the sponging if you like,’ she told the younger woman.

‘Oh fine. We’re up to our eyes here so that will be great.’ The nurse smiled as she handed Maggie the sponge. ‘As soon as there’s a bed free we’ll let you
know.’ Maggie dipped the sponge into the tepid water and gently patted it over Shona’s body, willing her temperature to come down.

‘I might as well push off, now that you’re here.’ Terry had joined her. He didn’t say ‘at last’ – he didn’t have to. She knew what he meant.
‘Is Josie going to look after the twins?’

Maggie didn’t look at him. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly.

‘Fine. See you. Ring me at the office if you have to. I’ll call in on the way home.’ Terry bent down and kissed Shona. She started to wail as he walked towards the door.

‘Want Daddy, Mammy.’

‘Daddy will be back soon. He has to go to work for a little while,’ she soothed.

‘No,’ Shona said petulantly. ‘Want my daddy.’ She twisted away and kicked out at the sponge and started to cry again. A child in the bed next to her joined in and a
little boy opposite who was getting his temperature taken anally was yelling blue murder.

A sister of the child, who was bored and fed up with the long wait in the stiflingly hot ward kept saying in a whiny voice that was setting Maggie’s teeth on edge, ‘I wanna go home,
Ma. Ma, I wanna go home.’ Another child was playing with a computer game and the tinny beeps out of it added yet another element to the cacophony. Maggie could feel the beginnings of a
headache. She wouldn’t have minded a cup of tea but she knew if she left Shona even for a minute there’d be ructions. Across the way, the little boy puked right over his whingeing
sister and she started to yell. Casualty was always a nightmare. It would be much better when she went up to the ward, Maggie comforted herself.

It was late afternoon by the time a bed finally became available and as she carried her daughter up the interminable flights of stairs to St Camillus’s ward, Maggie was fit for nothing.
She was baked alive; her clothes stuck to her; rivulets of perspiration ran down between her breasts. She had forgotten just how warm hospitals were. And it was even worse in children’s
hospitals. She was starving, her head was pounding and she was wondering how she was going to organize herself for the rest of the week. Josie was not available for the next two afternoons. The
mornings would be OK; Michael and Mimi would be at summer school until twelve-thirty. But after that she was stuck until Terry came home. She wanted to stay with Shona. The nurses had told Maggie
that the toddler would be in hospital for at least four days and that there were facilities for parents to stay overnight if they wished. It was reassuring for the child and Maggie knew she’d
only be worried sick if she was at home, knowing that Shona was ill and fretting for her.

But she had Michael and Mimi to think of as well. She didn’t want them to feel excluded. Mimi had been a little bit put out by the arrival of Shona and always made sure that she got her
fair share of attention. Michael, God bless him, was a placid child and she’d have no trouble with him. Maggie laid Shona into the cot as the nurse arranged the drip beside the bed. She had
chickened out when they were inserting the drip. The nurse in the observation room had asked if she wanted to stay and hold Shona down but Maggie had said no. She had stepped outside as the doctor
got to work and had to put her hand over her mouth to stop her lip quivering as she saw her daughter struggling and squirming against the nurse, her howls heartrending.

Now when a nurse or doctor approached, Shona’s lip started to tremble and she clung to Maggie. Consequently, Maggie was now even more reluctant to leave her. When Terry came in tonight,
she’d go home and see what she could organize. Then she’d come back and stay the night. It was after six when Terry arrived, and Maggie was starving. ‘What the hell is that?
What’s going on here? What’s wrong with her?’ Terry looked horrified as he pointed to the drip strapped on to Shona’s hand.

‘Calm down, it’s a saline drip; they’re giving her antibiotics through it as well. I’m going home to see the kids, have something to eat and shower, and I’ll come
back and stay. Will you get the kids off to summer school in the morning and I’ll arrange for someone to pick them up tomorrow?’

‘Don’t be too long, will you, Maggie? I’ve a lot of work to do for tomorrow.’ Terry was not in the best of humours.

‘I’ll be as long as it takes,’ Maggie said evenly, taking her bag and edging her way out the door. She didn’t want Shona to get upset about her leaving. As she ran down
the stairs past Intensive Care, grateful that at least her child wasn’t in there, Maggie fumed at Terry’s attitude. He could be such a pig sometimes. You would think from the way he was
going on that it was all her fault. Whether she was at home or not, Shona would still have contracted pneumonia. It was a virus. Outside, she paused for a second and drew some deep breaths. A
slight breeze had blown up and after the airless heat of the ward it was such a relief. Across the street, a gang of teenagers sat smoking and listening to ghetto-blasters. Oh, to be them without a
care in the world, Maggie thought as she walked along to where her car was parked.

Wearily she walked around to the driver’s side and went to insert her key. A windscreen-wiper blade protruded from the lock and Maggie’s jaw dropped as she looked in and saw that her
car radio had been ripped out and there were wires dangling from the ignition. Across the street, someone laughed. She turned to see the gang watching her. Anger ripped through her. Fucking little
bastards, she swore. As if people weren’t miserable enough having a child in hospital. The last thing they needed to worry about was where to park their cars. She felt like going over and
thumping the daylights out of them. She wanted to rake her nails down their jeering faces and pull chunks out of their hair and kick the fellows hard in the balls. All her anger and frustration at
the whole sorry day coalesced into a vicious desire to inflict violence on these so-called victims of deprived backgrounds. It wasn’t they who were victims but people like her who were at the
mercy of every criminal Tom, Dick and Harry. It was she who was being deprived right now, deprived of the car she needed to get home to her children. By God, that lot would be deprived when she got
her hands on them she thought, too furious to think straight and be intimidated by the gang of them.

She was just about to cross the street when a shabbily dressed old man stopped her. ‘I wouldn’t, ma’am, if I were you. They’re a tough shower that lot – I know
– I live around here and I’ve seen them in action. You’d only end up getting battered and mugged. The next time, park up the way as far as you can, although Eccles Street is
getting as bad: three cars were done there on Sunday. What kind of rearing is on them at all? God be with the days when you could walk the streets in safety and, if you were in trouble, be sure of
a helping hand. Good evenin’ to you, ma’am.’ He raised his hat at her and his kind old eyes smiled into hers before he shuffled off towards Hill Street.

His words and mannerly way diffused her anger a little and made her rational again. That old man was right; she wouldn’t have a chance and if she did strike any of them, she’d
probably end up in jail for assault. Those gurriers always knew their rights. A thought struck her. Where was Terry’s car? The last thing she needed was for
his
car to get robbed.
She’d better go in and tell him to move it and give the AA a call. She’d have to phone Josie and tell her she’d be late. It was a totally harassed woman who finally got home that
evening. Michael and Mimi, with that instinctive facility that children have for knowing that their parents are pushed beyond the limit, were playing up. ‘Mammy, he called me a maggot.
I’m not a maggot, aren’t I not?’ her daughter whined.