1. Ward Rounds

With her long mahogany brown hair swinging in the light spring breeze, Ada hurried up the farm lane from the cottage, where she had just left her husband and daughter, to start her shift at Mary Vale Home for mothers and babies. Much as she loved the Home, her patients and staff, Ada’s heart ached, because she had yearned to stay with her little family this morning. It was Jamie’s daunting first day of looking after Catherine on his own.

He hadn’t been here for the birth, stationed as he was with the front-line medical corps in Tobruk, and it was there that he had suffered the accident that cost him his left arm. Trying to evacuate a stretchered soldier he had been caught in enemy crossfire; his medical colleagues had worked hard but failed to save his arm, so Jamie had to be shipped home for further treatment. After a long period of hospitalization and convalescence, Jamie was mercifully recovering, and due imminently to also return to work as a resident doctor at Mary Vale, fitting his working hours around his wife’s, who was Senior Ward Sister in the Home.

As usual, the minute Ada walked into Mary Vale domestic preoccupations flew away, quickly replaced by thoughts for her patients and their needs. She had read when she first arrived here that Mary Vale had once been a stopping point for pilgrims crossing the Irish sea, seeking refuge en route to Furness Abbey. A thousand years ago on these very foundations an abbey stood, and it was here that monks offered a bed and a simple supper to any who arrived asking for sanctuary. So, it had been and so it was now, Ada thought. The ancient abbey, now transformed into a refuge for unmarried mothers and their babies, was still a place of sanctuary, and long may it stay so, Ada prayed.

Removing her nurse’s cape, Ada briskly walked down the corridor that led on to the wards and Matron’s office. The mornings were always busy with the endless cycle of feeds in the nursery, skilfully handled by Dora, an older, vastly experienced midwife who had been at Mary Vale for years and was primarily responsible for the care of all the babies in the nursery. Morning ward rounds were always conducted with Matron, these days accompanied by the new senior sister who had recently been appointed to accommodate Ada’s wish to work part-time. The interviewing panel, just Ada and Matron, had been surprised when glamorous, commanding Renee Gibson had applied for the job. On paper she was more than qualified, coming from St Thomas’ hospital in London with a vast experience of midwifery nursing. Unlike her cold, rather aloof predecessor, Sister Edith Mann, who had left Mary Vale in very mysterious circumstances, smiling Sister Gibson, with her long curling jet-black hair and green eyes was relaxed, bright and breezy.

Ada’s only question about her appointment was why an apparently dynamic, young woman seemed in such a hurry to leave London. Wouldn’t she miss the social life that still thrived in the capital even during wartime? At her interview when questioned on the subject confident Renee had waved a dismissive hand in the air. She had had more than her fill of all that, what she yearned for these days was peace and quiet and the beauty of the Lake District. Here was something that Ada completely identified with, her passion for fell walking and the splendour of the mountains had attracted her to the area in the first place. Nevertheless, Mary Vale – on the very edge of the vast sweep of Morecambe Bay – was a far cry from a bustling city hospital on the banks of the River Thames. Oddly enough, so far, Ada had seen no evidence of Renee’s passion for the great outdoors. There had been no sign of a pair of stout walking boots or a rain jacket, no questions about the best routes to take up to the higher fells, not even a request to borrow an ordnance survey map.

‘Not everybody is as mad and impetuous as you,’ she had firmly chided herself. ‘Let the poor woman get her feet under the table before you start criticizing her lack of adventure.’

Ada found Dora in the nursery, with a chubby red-faced baby balanced across her knees. Dora deftly changed the baby, expertly sticking safety pins into the terry towelling nappy before popping the little lad over her shoulder and winding him.

‘How was Catherine when you left her?’ Dora immediately inquired.

Ada suspected that the sub text of Dora’s question was, how was Catherine when you left her alone with her daddy this morning?

‘They were counting the flowers in the garden.’ Ada smiled. ‘She barely noticed me leaving, to be honest.’

Dora gave a cheerful smile, but Ada knew just how much she missed little Catherine, who she’d taken care of in the nursery when Jamie was away and Ada was trying to work full time. Dora had taken her under her wing and loved her like a daughter. Since the day she was born the two of them had bonded to the extent that sometimes when Ada had arrived in the nursery to pick up her daughter, Catherine had clung to Dora, who though firm about handing her charge over was nevertheless touched by the little girl’s devotion to her.

‘I know you two will miss each other,’ Ada started sympathetically. ‘But it’s really important that Catherine gets used to Jamie looking after her. Sharing the childminding will allow us both to work part-time at Mary Vale and still give us lots of time with our baby, time that Jamie really needs after missing out on Catherine’s first months.’

Dora nodded, ‘Yes, I understand that.’

‘Plus,’ Ada added firmly. ‘Jamie’s really has got to get back into practising medicine; the longer he’s away from it the more his confidence drains away.’

Dora gave a tight determined smile.

‘It’ll be good for the little lass to be with her daddy, and it will be good for Mary Vale to have a resident doctor again.’

Recalling Jamie’s arrival at Mary Vale as the new doctor she had fallen madly in love with, Ada’s big blue eyes sparkled; Dr Reid had certainly set the residents buzzing, but as the girls got to know him over the length of their pregnancies it was his professional skill and expertise that they valued the most.

Dragging Ada’s wandering thoughts back to the here and now Dora asked, ‘Do you think Jamie will, er … manage, like?’

Ada rephrased her friend’s question. ‘Do you mean, will he manage with only one hand?’ She gave a little sigh. ‘I’m sure eventually he will be fine, especially as it’s the left hand he lost, though to be honest, he’s not as convinced as I am.’

‘You can hardly blame the poor fella,’ Dora answered sympathetically. ‘How long has it been now since the accident, six months?’

‘About that,’ Ada agreed. ‘Poor lamb, no sooner has he got to know his daughter than he’s left on his own to feed and change her.’

Now it was Dora’s turn to comfort Ada. ‘I wouldn’t fret yourself,’ she soothed, ‘When I saw Dr Reid pushing the little ’un down the farm lane in her pram, the pair of them seemed happy enough, chuckling and nattering away they were.’

Ada smiled. ‘Luckily Catherine’s still enough of a baby to take each new experience as it comes, be it a daddy or a new toy she seems to take it all in her stride.’

‘Aye, you’re right there, she’s a confident lassie, Catherine certainly ruled this nursery,’ Dora recalled. ‘I miss her sweet smiling face,’ she said with genuine affection.

Ada threw her friend a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing her soon. Jamie’s bringing her up here when I finish my shift this afternoon.’ Glancing at her fob watch Ada headed for the nursery door. ‘Better get on with the ward rounds, don’t want to keep Matron waiting.’

‘Look out for little Polly, she’s been getting herself into a right state,’ Dora called after her.

Stopping at the door Ada turned. ‘When has Polly not got herself into a right state?’

‘Sixteen’s too young to be carrying a babby,’ Dora said sympathetically. ‘Poor kid’s frightened to death most of the time.’

‘I know, I’ll do my best to calm her down,’ Ada promised.

‘Good,’ Dora responded. ‘You’re one of the few she’ll listen to.’

On her way to the antenatal ward, Ada grew thoughtful. Dora was right, poor little Polly was way too young to be carrying a baby. Hers was an all too familiar story, walking out with a local lad, things had gone too far and Polly, ignorant of the facts of life, had fallen pregnant. The families – who knew each other – were immediately at loggerheads. The boy’s family, who had money behind them, urged Polly’s family to pack the girl off right away, ‘to get sorted’ as they phrased it. As far as they were concerned a dangerous and illegal termination was preferable to bringing shame on the family; the very idea had sent Polly’s parents into a lather of righteous indignation,

‘Abortion’s dangerous and against the law,’ Polly’s family had insisted. ‘It’s also a mortal sin in the eyes of our Catholic church – Polly’s poor little baby would live forever in Purgatory.’

The concern from both families to conceal Polly’s situation from the public eye resulted in the girl arriving at Mary Vale early in her pregnancy. Having taken no part in any of the decision-making, she’d arrived in a state of shock and bewilderment.

‘The more they fought it out the more invisible I became,’ Polly had wept after Ada had brought her a cup of tea that she couldn’t drink and a slice of bread and butter that she couldn’t swallow. ‘In the end Ted’s family said they’d cover the cost of getting me out of the way on condition that I have the baby adopted, which my parents were in favour of.’

‘And what, if anybody had taken the trouble to ask, would you have liked Polly?’ Ada gently inquired.

‘ME?’ Polly asked in surprise. ‘Well, if it had been down to me, I would have married Ted and had our baby and been one happy little family in Rochdale,’ her voice trailed away. ‘That didn’t happen, especially when Ted turned eighteen and got his call-up papers; he was off sooner than I could blink.’

Ada smothered a sigh. If she could have had a shilling for every time she had heard this same tragic tale, she would be close to having a few hundred pounds in the bank. It was one of the oldest stories in the book: an unwanted pregnancy that could have been avoided if only mothers were prepared to educate their daughters about the real facts of life instead of talking about birds, bees and storks delivering babies. Hiding menstruation, conception and childbirth behind gawkish sentimental images and puerile explanations helped nobody, especially the girls themselves, who alone carried the consequences of an inadequate sex education.

Joining Sister Renee and Matron in the hospital corridor the three women swapped notes before starting the ward rounds.

‘Dora’s already mentioned that Polly’s in a state,’ Ada said, as they made their way to the antenatal ward.

Renee, with her thick jet-black curly hair tucked under her sister’s cap, managed to look both smart and attractive in her starched white uniform, with the belt pulled tight, emphasizing her curvaceous figure and slender legs. Impatiently she rolled her eyes.

‘Really, the girl does herself no favours at all, panicking about every little thing that comes her way.’

Matron gently reminded Renee of Polly’s immaturity. ‘Her age and lack of knowledge certainly don’t help but with patience and understanding we can prepare her for the months ahead.’

Renee gave a blasé smile. ‘I’m aware of that, Matron, I just think it’s a pity the poor kid reacts to every physical change in her body with tears and drama.’

Ada quietly added, ‘I actually think she’s getting a bit better.’

Renee’s astonishing green eyes widened in surprise. ‘Really?’

Ada nodded. ‘Yes, really. She listens more these days and reacts less.’

Renee raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows as if to say, ‘Well that’s certainly not something I’ve noticed.’

‘There is some small improvement,’ Matron agreed.

Renee gave a little laugh. ‘Well, let’s hope it stays that way.’

Ada was well aware of the problems that accompanied pregnancy at a young age, premature delivery and pre-eclampsia were top of her list along with the risk of anaemia and bleeding during pregnancy, which had already happened to Polly. When Ada found Polly, looking more like a child than a young woman, lying pale and limp on her hospital bed, with her mousey-coloured lank hair plastered around her face and her eyes red rimmed with crying, her heart ached for the poor kid. Nevertheless, she maintained a cheery presence as she pulled the curtains around the bed.

‘Morning, dear. How are we feeling?’

Polly gave a weak smile. ‘Sick,’ she answered briefly.

Polly complained of feeling sick most of the time, and Ada always did all she could to alleviate her condition though she did occasionally wonder if some of the nausea might be psychological. But she knew telling Polly that (which she suspected Renee might be inclined to do) wouldn’t help the girl one little bit.

‘I could get you a drop of barley water,’ Ada suggested as she leant over to take Polly’s temperature. ‘If you sipped it slowly you might keep it down.’

Devoted to her favourite nurse Polly gave a feeble smile. ‘I’ll try,’ she promised.

Before Ada left her bedside, Polly clutched hold of her hand.

‘Is my baby really alright?’ she asked for at least the tenth time.

Ada gave her a bright smile. ‘Yes, we’ve heard a good, strong heartbeat, try not to worry dear.’

‘But bleeding’s like a period,’ Polly fretted. ‘How can you keep a baby when that keeps happening?

‘Trust me, dear, bleeding during pregnancy can happen with young girls your age. We’re keeping an eye on it,’ she assured her agitated patient. ‘The best thing you can do for now, Polly, is get some rest.’

Polly gave a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, Sister Ada. I know I’ve got to give my baby up for adoption, but while I’m in charge and the baby is growing inside me I want to do my best for it.’

Seeing the lingering sadness in the girl’s eyes Ada gave her a sympathetic smile.

‘Pregnancy is a strange experience, sometimes it quite overwhelms you, not just your body but your mind too,’ she said softly.

‘I never thought I’d feel so much concern for a baby I’m not going to keep,’ Polly murmured tremulously. ‘I feel protective and responsible and full of love for the poor little mite.’ Sighing, she added, ‘God only knows how I’ll ever have the strength to give it away.’