Chapter 17
The sound jolted the entire tent into wakefulness. Fiona’s first thought was that the rape team was coming for them. She wasn’t the only woman in the tent with that particular nightmare but she was the only one who hadn’t had real life experience with it.
A long moan slithered through the air from Megan’s pallet. Fiona put a calming hand on the two little girls in their bed next to her. “Whisht,” she said, “go back to sleep. It’s nothing.”
By the time she went to Megan, Julie and Nuala were at Megan’s side.
“Remember to breathe, Meggie,” Julie said. “It’ll ease the pain.”
Megan began to cry. “I’m not ready! Please don’t make me do this!”
Fiona glanced at Hannah who was already standing by the tent door. It hadn’t taken long for everyone in the tent to realize that Hannah was the designated snitch in the tent. Even knowing that, she wasn’t shunned by the women—her own pregnancy and how that happened was all too real—but neither was she brought into confidences or befriended.
“Give her an hour before you tell them,” Fiona called to Hannah.
Hannah, a tense girl with long blonde braids, looked nervously from the tent entrance to Megan writhing on her bed.
“They want to know as soon as it starts,” she said in a low voice.
“And we’ll do the same for you,” Fiona said firmly.
Hannah hesitated and then nodded. She pulled a chair up to sit by the door. When it was time, she’d light the lantern to signal the sentries that one of the women was in labor.
“Will I ever see you again?” Megan whimpered as she clutched Fiona’s hand.
“Of course you will,” Fiona said. “Nuala, get a bowl of warm water and a cloth.” Nuala jumped up to obey.
Megan tensed up again and grabbed for Julie’s hand. “It’s coming again!” she squealed.
“Let it take you, lass,” Julie said soothingly. “Don’t fight it. Blow out!”
Megan began panting and blowing and gave a small scream at the end as the contraction pulled her over the edge.
“Can you stand, Meggie?” Fiona asked as Nuala came up with the bowl.
“I don’t think so,” Megan said and started sobbing.
Fiona gave Julie a desolate look.
“Meggie, darlin,” Julie said, reaching for the damp cloth and stroking Megan’s forehead with it. “We’ve got a tried and true method of getting this over so much faster for ye, but you must listen to us, eh?”
“I’ll try.”
“Let’s upsy-daisy, lass and take two small steps—”
“It will hurt so much if I do!”
“No, Meg,” Fiona said, “I promise it won’t hurt a bit more than it is.”
Julie gave her a wry smile. “That’s certainly true,” she said.
In that instant, Fiona felt a rush of love and connection with these women, all of them sharing centuries old sensations of women everywhere. Nuala took the cloth from Julie and dabbed at Megan’s face with it.
“Come on, Meggie,” she said, “the sooner it’s over, the sooner you’ll meet your little one.”
Fiona wasn’t sure that was the kind of motivation Megan really needed—to be reminded that she might well never meet her baby—but it had the desired effect. Megan swung her legs out of bed with a groan and, clenching Julie and Fiona’s hands tightly, pulled herself to a stand.
“If she has the baby in here, I’ll get in trouble,” Hannah said, her voice wobbling.
Nuala snorted. “Do you mean they’ll hold back that extra serving of pudding for ye?” she said.
“Leave her be,” Fiona said. “We’re all doing what we can to survive.”
“Aye,” Nuala said, “only some of us are doing it on the backs of our friends.”
“They’re coming!” Hannah said loudly. She backed away from the entrance as Sinead and Dr. Mac pushed their way into the tent. Sinead was wearing a long robe and her riding boots while Mac had taken the time to pull on jeans and a t-shirt. Even Fiona could see what Sinead saw in the man. The t-shirt accentuated his toned torso.
Sinead delivered an ugly look to Hannah that had the same effect as a slap. The girl cowered and slunk into the depths of the tent.
“We saw the light,” Sinead said, nodding toward the lantern Nuala had lit to prepare the water bowl. “I hope you ladies weren’t thinking of trying to deliver this baby yourselves? That is a very good way to kill both the baby and your friend.”
Dr. Mac went to Megan who was staring at both him and Sinead with unabashed fear.
“Hello, lass,” he said easily, slipping a strong arm behind her to support her. “Ready to have this baby, then?”
“It hurts,” Megan said as she looked into his eyes.
Fiona had to hand it to him. He looked like he cared about the girl. It was hard to believe it was only about the money with him. But that’s exactly what made him and Sinead so evil. Regardless of how they looked, they didn’t care about Megan. They only cared about the fifty thousand quid that was about to emerge from between her legs.
Fiona wanted to stop them but knew that would be a waste of time and only serve to upset the children. Even now she could see Nuala’s two lads were awake and watching everything. She reached out and gave Megan’s arm one last squeeze as she passed her.
“You’ll be grand,” she called as Dr. Mac led Megan from the tent. Sinead let them pass before turning and scanning the tent’s interior. Her eyes passed over Fiona and settled on Julie. It didn’t take a medical intern to figure out that Julie was next to deliver. Sinead smiled and left.
Morning brought the breakfast wagon and the rich aroma of toast, sausage and strawberry muffins. The driver of the wagon was also the cook, Eloise. She had become friendly with some of the non pregnant women who were expected to work when they weren’t being inseminated. Eloise wasn’t the smiley type, Fiona noted, and she also didn’t appear to be in the camp under duress. However unlikely or believable, it seemed that this was a paying job for her and she was welcome to stay or leave as she liked.
Many of the women denigrated Eloise for willing working for Sinead instead of reporting what was happening at the camp. Fiona wasn’t completely sure there was anyone to report it to. Plus, Eloise was generally sympathetic to the camp women—all of them, expecting or not—and she always put aside treats for the children.
It could be a lot worse. Today, Eloise had pulled her food wagon to the front door early. This wasn’t unusual. The pregnant women, whose nutrition was high priority, were always the first stop. Later in the morning Fiona would often smell coffee—something unavailable to the women in the pregnancy tent—wafting over the fence from Eloise’s visit to the non pregnant women.
“Good morning, ladies,” Eloise said as the women lined up to receive their trays of eggs and muffins. “As usual, stack yer trays outside the tent when yer done. Congratulations, by the way. Young Megan gave birth to a little lass. Mother and daughter are doing well. Megan sends her love.”
After Fiona and Nuala got the children settled with their breakfast, they sat with the others and had their tea.
“At first they used to let us help,” Julie said, “which made sense. Not that we’re midwives or anything but if you’re surrounded by friends, it does make it go easier.”
“Why did they stop?”
“It wasn’t just the mother screaming in pain and begging ‘em not to take her baby—which was a bleeding nightmare, sure it was. But you couldn’t help but be reminded that it would be you there soon enough—screaming and begging. I guess they figured it didn’t do for morale.”
Hannah was sitting with the group drinking her tea with downcast eyes. Fiona felt sorry for her. Fiona had a family here in the camp—a tribe of six other women from the compound—sisters in a very real way. She had a real family, too; Declan, Mike, Sarah and Gavin and John. It wasn’t possible to imagine a world in which she would betray her friends. But if she hadn’t had the family she had? If she were as alone in the world as poor Hannah was? Perhaps an extra serving of pudding would help make a difference.
Fiona was glad Megan’s trial was over—at least the first part. She wasn’t sure how long they’d let the poor lass rest before “insemination” attempts began. Her face must have telegraphed her feelings because Julie leaned over and patted her on the knee.
“She’s young. She’ll be back here in no time.”
“Sure, you’re right,” Fiona said. And you and I will be gone when she does.
Fiona felt a rush of urgency at the thought of this nightmare happening over and over again—with the same result.
We’ve got to get out of here. Somehow, with babies strapped to our backs and little ones attached to every hand, with half of us heavy with late stage pregnancy, somehow we have to find our way out of here.
When the trays had been stacked by the tent opening and the children dressed for play outdoors—it was a fine day—Fiona made up Megan’s bed and stacked her things in a neat pile. Someone would come for them later today. She wished she had a paper and pencil to write an encouraging note for her but she would just have to send mental well wishes and hope that Megan felt them. Congratulations, darling girl. How I wish we could all be there to praise her and you. How my heart breaks that you won’t feel that.
“Fiona?”
Catriona stood by Megan’s empty bed, a worried look on her face. Catriona glanced over her shoulder and when Fiona followed her gaze, she saw Hannah look away.
“What’s wrong?” Fiona asked.
“Eloise had other news,” Catriona said. “She told Hannah.”
“And Hannah told you?”
“I’m not friends with her if that’s what you mean,” Catriona said. “But she’s not heartless and she needed to tell someone.”
“Tell someone what?”
Catriona looked around the tent. Fiona watched the girl’s eyes stop at Nuala who was tying her lads’ shoes. Before Catriona even spoke, Fiona knew.
Abby.
“Nuala’s sister was found this morning,” Catriona said in a low voice.
Fiona nodded, her heart plummeting in anticipation of the coming words.
“In the trough behind the cook tent.”
Dear God, pray for us now and at the hour…
“She drowned herself.”