It Shouldn't Happen to a Midwife! (15 page)

We left her sitting on one of the window benches at the front entrance. She'd crossed her arms and fixed a steely glare upon the receptionist who was now slowing down to a snail's pace and complaining about how difficult certain letters were to decipher.

‘By the time Cynthia gets that letter, the Medical Ball will have been and gone,' I said as we headed for work. ‘Miss MacCready shouldn't be giving her such a hard time. You could see she's desperate for that letter – I kind of feel sorry for Cynthia.'

‘Me too, and for Margaret as well. Sure an' I never thought I'd ever say that – they've always seem such copers.' Marie was astonished.

Seonaid put in, ‘You're right. On top of all that stuff last night, Margaret certainly gave us a big surprise. It's the last reason I expected her to be where she was, still less that she needed help and we kind of owe her for sorting out Matron.' She had a speculative look. ‘Jane, with all your tales about gadding round the countryside, you'd be up for helping, wouldn't you?'

‘Of course, but we won't need an audience. Maybe an ambulance though.' I turned to Marie. ‘What d'you say we Cinderellas have a trial run the night of the ball when everybody's attention's taken up with all the excitement of that?'

Ruminating on Margaret's secret I got to the labour ward, where in the absence of any labouring patients, Sister Flynn was scribbling out the week's duty rota.

‘You're not here,' she said, twirling the pencil, ‘you're to go to the Special Nursery.'

I must have looked surprised as I turned on my heel, because she added irritably, ‘Not right now, you eejit, next week. How many deliveries have you now?

‘Four.'

‘You've done well then for this being your first time here.' From her dry tone I presumed she meant numerically. ‘And I hope you've got your witness book handy. I don't remember signing it at all.'

‘I'll bring it in, Sister. It's not quite to hand.'

How true! In all my post-delivery excitements I'd forgotten this essential detail. I wasn't even sure where the book was. It must be somewhere here. But where?

It was nerve-wracking enough going to be cast loose in the nursery with its frail little passengers, but without finding the book and getting it signed I wouldn't be going anywhere. I cast my mind desperately to where I'd last seen it.

I went into the kitchen and pretended to have a purge on cleaning whilst, with an ever increasing panic, scouring only the cupboards. From its throne of a shelf my pan glinted at me, at least providing evidence that my time in the labour ward hadn't entirely been wasted. But that was of little comfort as I foraged further. I was convinced the book must be here but to no avail. Plainly the dratted thing was well and truly lost.

‘Mercy! You'd think a bomb had hit the place.' Lorna, our class's cheerful cherub, stuck her head round my bedroom door.

I was especially pleased to see her. Compared to Seonaid's frenetic approach to life and Marie's doom-laden prognostications, she managed to combine a sense of fun with that of orderly calm. She said, ‘And I thought only Seonaid could create this level of havoc. Have you been counting all your earthly possessions?'

‘Yes. They're all there bar my record book,' I said, gesturing at the covered floor space. ‘I was sure I had it here, but apparently not and the trouble is that, having no patients around today, that bloomin' Sister Flynn's been chasing me all over the place about it. Eventually I had to say I'd a bad dose of the curse to get me off duty. At least that got me out of her way. I've been turning this place upside-down ever since, but with no luck.' I gave a huge sigh. ‘I don't know what I'm going to do. My life seems full of complications other people manage to avoid. I bet you haven't lost your book.'

Lorna came into the room. She looked like a cocoa advertisement in her red flannel dressing gown and her hair pigtailed down the back. Even having her perching on one cheek and twinkling at me from the end of my bed made me feel better.

‘Well no I haven't but maybe there's something in the wind. Same as you, Seonaid's lost her book and she's turning her room upside- down too, though in her case it's hard to see the difference. Now you, Nurse Mac, are usually more organised. You've been clocking the deliveries too. You won't want to have to go through all that again, will you?' She stirred a pile of clothes with a desultory foot then turned with the look of a kindly advisor. ‘Now! Where did you see it last?'

‘If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this conversation.'

Lorna looked thoughtful. ‘One way or another you three always seem to be up to something. You make the rest of us look very dull. And where's Marie, anyway? She might know. She's always going on about keeping it in a safe clean place. She even makes me nervous.' She put her hands, palms up, as if warding off evil.

‘Probably taken it to church to make sure it gets plenty blessings. Marie's such a worrier I haven't told her about the book. Blast! What a waste of time. I've spent all evening looking for the …' I felt a swear coming on but Lorna might not approve, ‘darn thing.'

‘It's bound to turn up. You look shattered. Why don't you just go to bed? Everything seems better in the morning.' There was a hint of mischief as she added, ‘If you'd like, I'll put in a special wee prayer for you tonight.'

‘It'll need to be a big one,' I said and threw a slipper at her. It missed and caught Cynthia as she barged in. Dressed in gold, she must eventually have had success with the postal service.

‘Oh, I say!' For a moment she looked taken aback, then heading for some space, located a bare bit of floor and gave a twirl.

‘What do you think?'

‘You'll certainly be noticed,' said Lorna, ‘and the colour's just you.'

Cynthia pursed her lips, puffed her cheeks and pulled in her stomach. ‘You don't think it's too tight?'

‘No, it's fine – just remember not to bend,' I said and went to the door to look out. ‘Just checking for the footmen and carriage.'

Cynthia cast a reproachful look. ‘I've never thought of myself as Cinderella, Jane, and as you're not going to the Ball, at least I'll be able to tell you about it. I must say,' she preened in front of the mirror, ‘I'm getting excited about going. I can't wait for tomorrow night.'

Lorna wound her pigtail into a halo, stood up and stretched. ‘Well us poor Cinderellas'll be waiting eagerly for it too.' She cupped her hand to her ear. ‘And I'm thinking I already hear the sound of the carriage wheels being pumped up.' She turned at the door as she left, then added, ‘I heard your man Oliver telling his friend Raymond he wasn't going. It was too expensive.'

‘He's not my man,' I said automatically.

‘So I heard,' laughed Lorna and left, closely followed by Cynthia, suddenly so overtaken by getting her dress and its trial run she said she too had to get to bed.

The following morning, Marie called. Eyes shining and ready for the day, she seemed surprised by my surly responses and reluctance to get out bed. It was safer tucked under the blankets and not confronting the major problem of book loss.

‘Aren't you going on duty this morn?'

Not bothering to open my eyes, I groaned and rolled over. ‘It's hardly worth it. I've lost my record book and Old Flynn's chasing me for it. Without it, I'd bet she won't let me near any patient.' I gave a despairing sigh. ‘I just don't know where I put it so right now I've got a major problem.'

‘Ah!'

Something in her tone made me open my eyes.

‘Both you and Seonaid left yours lying on a table in the dining room so I took them both away and covered them.' She waved two brown paper-covered books under my nose with the flourish of a conjuror. ‘I hope you didn't mind but I was worried about them.'

‘Not half as worried as me,' I said, getting out of bed and shaking her with, under the circumstances, commendable restraint. ‘Marie, you'll be the death of us. I know Seonaid's been hunting high and low for her book. Just you go and tell her about your good deed before she commits suicide.'

‘That's a mortal sin.'

‘So's murder. Away you go!'

With all the reverence of handling state jewels I placed the book in front of Sister Flynn. She, pen hovering, scrutinised it before eventually scribbling her signature in the appropriate boxes.

‘I've to write a report about you too,' she sighed, scratching her brow and looking harassed. ‘So you can expect a visit to Matron's office. Now I must dash, I'm late.' With that she sped off probably to drum up custom from the antenatal ward.

I spent the rest of the week worrying about an imminent summons. I kept well out of Flynn's way and tried not to think of a likely and unpleasant encounter heading mine. You didn't go to Matron's office for congratulations though Margaret alleged she often popped in for a pleasant chat. I couldn't imagine ever doing that but maybe it was Margaret's idea of a joke. Sometimes Irish humour had me foxed.

I wondered where I'd gone so wrong that my next destination was going to be Matron's office. Was this a formality before a departure? I'd just arrived! And it was no good telling anybody else about it. Despite what Lorna said, when it came to drama, our group was competitive.

Then, eventually and on my last day, I blurted out my anxiety to Lisa who, in the absence of any action in labour ward, was brewing up in its kitchen.

She looked surprised then amused. ‘Ah sure she'd only be joking. Don't you be thinking she's that bad. Under that bib and tucker beats a fun-loving heart. You should have come to me sooner and I'd have put you out of your misery. You've been grand here, so you have. I've even heard her say so.' She handed me a cup of coffee black enough to have pace-making qualities. ‘Here! Swallow this, it'll do you good. I can't think why you've been worrying – save that for the Nursery.' Then she went off into the corridor, strains of ‘Do What You Do Do Well' floating gently in her wake.

Only Seonaid and Cynthia were going to the Ball, but our corridor had all the excitement of a drama unfolding. Everybody, bar Margaret, was keen to watch the girls getting ready. She was cloistered in her room and readying for an alternative pursuit of something equally exciting if different.

‘It's maybe my imagination but I think you've grown,' said Marie as Seonaid, dressed in red, pirouetted in front of us with the grace of a flame.

‘It's a piece,' she said, patting the extra inches of hair, ‘and I'm praying it doesn't come off, at least until we start dancing. Then if it does, I'll pretend it doesn't belong to me.' She thought for a moment. ‘I could put the breeze up Raymond. Scream and say it's a rat.' Her heels pumped and she gave another twirl.

‘Sounds as if it's going to be a fun night then, especially as you'll be putting the guy so much at ease. And what about you, Cynthia? Can we help you fix anything?' asked Lorna, already in her dressing gown.

‘Jolly nice of you to offer, but no thanks, I think I'll manage,' said Cynthia, using a jewelled clip to harpoon her hair into a French plait. She sounded unusually anxious. ‘But you'd tell me if I didn't look alright, wouldn't you?'

I thought she looked splendid and said so.

‘I'd say she was like Brittania on Speed,' whispered that naughty Lorna, watching a reassured Cynthia take off in a vapour of Madame Rochas. ‘But maybe that's what that Brian Welch needs. She might speed him up if his brain can make the connections. He's as slow as a two-toed sloth. I once saw him in the antenatal ward lengthen his stride. I almost put it in the report book.'

Marie gave a little cry. ‘You're cruel, Lorna, so you are. Did you not see how happy she looked? I think it's grand that he asked her.'

‘Ah! But he didn't. She asked him – bought his ticket too.'

I was stunned. Cynthia was renowned for her thrift. I said, ‘Maybe she's changing. I'll test her. Next time I ask her for coins change for the phone, I'll expect her to give them without asking to see the colour of my money first.'

‘Now you'd be asking for a miracle there but here's one to be going on with,' Lorna said, turning to Seonaid. ‘You've grown by another six inches, I'd say.'

Seonaid teetered past. Despite all her complaints about Raymond, she looked excited. ‘Feet killing me already. I'll never last the night. Expect me back before midnight.'

‘No matter how early that is, it'll be after I'm in bed,' said Lorna, stifling a yawn. ‘Some of us need our beauty sleep. Goodnight, folks.'

Once everyone was gone we fished Margaret out of her room. She was dressed in enough protective gear to withstand nuclear fallout and was highly nervous.

‘I see Seonaid and Cynthia weren't the only ones getting dressed up for tonight,' I said, taking in the goggles and shin guards. ‘They're wonderful gauntlets – they look as if they belong to a biker.'

‘They do,' Margaret replied briefly. ‘They're my brother's. He said I'd need them if I was biking round the district.'

We were about to help Margaret deal with her big problem and she sounded despairing. ‘Only you girls know I can't ride a bike. I was trying to get one to practise on when you appeared.'

As secrets go, I thought it a pretty poor effort, but it was certainly true she needed that particular skill to move onto Second Part Midwifery, when we'd need to get about the streets. I'd never thought it was an unusual talent but it had certainly reduced Margaret to something resembling humility. Who'd have thought it! If we'd been surprised earlier by her embarrassed admission, now we were more amazed when she said that even her brother didn't know.