It Shouldn't Happen to a Midwife! (2 page)

I stumbled out. ‘What're the signs and symptoms of the bends?' I wondered. ‘And I suppose if we asked, maybe we could get our stomachs back come morning.'

Marie had followed. ‘Ah, Jane, it's you that's the joker, so you are, but that's not a lift, it's space travel. I never thought it'd be so quick or easy.' She swung around in wonder as she took in the bright corridor, with its rooms on either side, broken up by occasional sitting areas with easy-chairs in gossip groups. ‘Ah now, girls! It's a miracle! So modern and all, and look! There's even a kitchen.'

Some girls were coming out of a pantry area, mugs in hand, which they waved before heading for a lounge area. ‘Come and have a cup of tay when you've settled in. We're new too,' they called. They looked friendly and already quite at home.

‘I rather think I'll be going straight to bed,' Cynthia's cool voice fluted back, ‘but if number thirteen makes you nervous, Marie, I'll easily swap.' She strode down the corridor with the confidence of a matron on a ward round.

There was something about her that invited challenge and her remark about the lack of normal people niggled. Whilst Marie didn't seem to notice, somebody else had.

‘Whoa, there!' I held a hand up in a gesture a traffic policeman might have admired. ‘Why don't you have a look at it first, Marie? It might have good views. Miss MacCready wanted you to have it. You wouldn't want to disappoint her.'

Cynthia plunked down her cases and planted her feet. She adjusted her Alice band as if to free horns then tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. Her nostrils flared. ‘It's only a suggestion.
Un
lucky numbers can really spook some people and realising Marie's worries I was only trying to help.'

But Marie wasn't listening. All her attention was fixed on the door. ‘Girls!' It came as a plea. ‘Maybe it's an omen. I don't know if I can put one foot past the other now and did I not mention my fear? Vertigo it is alright.' She chewed a finger and blinked hard.

‘You don't say.' But my irony was lost. She kept on looking so petrified even I had a momentary qualm before taking her key, turning the lock and throwing the door open.

She inched cautiously into the room, its light wood and modern fittings making it as bright and comfortable as any hotel room.

‘Jasus!'

‘I just hope mine's like this.' Cynthia made it sound like a flaw. ‘If it's not, I'll be asking if there's a difference in the rent.'

But in a rush of confidence Marie had gone over to the bed, patting the pale blue bed cover eiderdown as if to check it was really there. ‘Even if there is, it'd be worth it. I can't believe my eyes, all this space for just me!' She clapped her hands then pointed. ‘And, look! Would you not say there's another miracle! A place for Our Lady.' She rummaged around in her suitcase and took out a small statue which she held with the care of an antique dealer handling fenced goods.

Cynthia raised her eyebrows into perfect arches. ‘You mean to put that on the bookshelf? Won't that leave you short of space for your paperwork and textbooks?'

‘Well, there's still plenty room for them too,' I said, wishing Cynthia would pipe down and wondering if the ornament was Ireland's version of Florence Nightingale. ‘She'll look well there, but shouldn't she have a lamp in her hand instead of that plate on her head?'

‘That's a halo,' Cynthia said, shooting out a withering look, but Marie's puzzled expression went as she crossed over to a wide window. She pulled back the swirly patterned curtains, uttering little cries of wonder. ‘And the views! I can't believe the views.'

In the glow of city light Belfast was darkly sulking under a pall of fine drizzle and smoke. Probably the winter light didn't help but it looked big, ugly and industrial with cranes gobbing at every corner. Surrounding hills might have softened the view but right now they were scowling like unattractive heavies. Still, the scene might improve in the morning light and since it appeared to have cured Marie's vertigo, I couldn't help but be infected by her happiness.

‘Yes, it's a fine sight. Nay problem. You're sorted. Looks as if you're going to be fine, Marie. And what about you, Cynthia, have you much to unpack?' Even if she had a very savvy way I felt I should ask. After all, we were supposed to be members of a caring profession.

‘No. I'm used to travelling light. Actually, I've done a fair amount of getting about so I've got it down to a fine art.' She gave a modest cough. ‘When work could spare me in London I'd pop over to Paris to visit the parents. They moved there a few years ago. Daddy's in the property business and—'

Cynthia's life history was cut short as a leprechaun knocked on the door and danced in, bringing the tea drinkers with her. They looked about with a benign interest.

‘Well, hello there! I'd say this is another grand place for a party – that is, of course, if you like parties, but sure, doesn't everybody?' The sprite's face was chalk white, her green eyes full of mischief.

Marie looked shocked. ‘Oh!' She clasped her hands. ‘Parties! When on earth will we have time for those? They say midwifery training's awful hard – desperate!'

‘It's just a matter of application and hard work,' said one girl, her eye makeup at odds with the tired grey cardigan tenting her from the neck down. ‘When I was standing in for Sister in theatre, it was a worry until I got a bit of experience, then it was so easy I could have done it blindfolded. I'm Margaret, by the way.' She wrung our hands in a no-nonsense way.

Resisting all her attempts to flatten it, the imp's hair stood up in black spikes. ‘Ach now, eyesight's a quair and handy thing but I'm sure these girls are not wanting to be hearing any of that oulde theatre stuff you're always on about. Are we not all beginners again?' She spoke lightly and hopped on dancer's legs to the window to see out. ‘Some view! We're lucky – some of the others look over the other side onto the hospital grounds. It's grand too – particularly if you're interested in hen houses pretending to be annexes.' She scrubbed her nose. ‘They set off the general hospital and maternity nicely!'

She opened the window and, ignoring Marie's squeals, leant out. A chill wind piled in carrying with it the sound of traffic passing far below. ‘Would you think anybody out there might be heading for a bit of fun? Maybe even the theatre.' Closing the window, she turned back. ‘Not your kind, of course, Margaret,' she said, crossing her fingers in both hands and holding them aloft as if to do the Highland Fling, ‘but the fun kind. I wouldn't be wanting much of the other.'

‘I'm pretty sure it'll be difficult to avoid,' Cynthia spoke up, straightening and addressing the troops. ‘This maternity hospital only accepts births which might prove difficult. Of course, theatre experience will be tremendously useful. I'm jolly glad I've had plenty of it.'

Margaret looked at her thoughtfully and stuck out her chin. ‘And where would you have done your training then?'

‘The London Hospital.'

‘And which would that be?' asked the imp, idly examining her fingernails.

‘I'd have thought everybody knows about
The
London Hospital. It's got such a wonderful reputation. Surely you must have heard of it.'

‘I can't say I have,' said Margaret, ‘but maybe that's because we girls,' she gestured at the group, ‘were so busy thinking we'd a grand training where we were.' She took a deep breath, making the tent billow. ‘Isn't that right?'

The others nodded vigorously whilst the imp put in, ‘Mind you, I'd have to say, excepting yourself,
Sister
Margaret, the Royal let us go very easily.'

‘Some easier than others,' a cheerful butterball of a girl spoke up. ‘What about the blood, Seonaid?'

The imp waved a careless hand. ‘Ach, Lorna, you'll be meaning the blood transfusion? Just because I didn't get straightaway to the fridge and eight bags turned into liver? And after all the fuss, didn't I get my whole family to sign up as blood donors. They were a perfect match, all eight of them.'

Whilst I hoped Seonaid's family wasn't her size or there'd be nothing left of them, Cynthia gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘I presume you mean the match was numerical?'

‘That too,' Seonaid said carelessly. ‘Anybody can make a mistake. Anyway, you're not so perfect yourself, Lorna. Was it not yourself who set off the fire alarm when a medical student got too close?'

‘Had to put out the flame somehow,' laughed Lorna, patting her bun as if to stop it escaping. Even if her clothes were dowdy, she had the air of a mischievous cherub with rosy cheeks and blue eyes magnified by spectacles, full of fun. ‘I was doing him a favour.' She cocked a bright look on Marie and myself. ‘So where did youse train then?'

Marie sighed and brushed away a tear. ‘G-galway.' She made it sound like Brigadoon. ‘I loved it but I wasn't anything special there, not like Margaret and Cynthia with all that theatre experience.'

Both girls took her respect as a matter of course whilst the others turned to me.

‘Aberdeen.' I tried to mumble it.

‘Ah, sure now, we've all heard of Aberdeen,' crowed the imp and did a little skip.

‘I've got two tickets for a Showband tonight. Would you fancy coming?' Unlike some, Seonaid had slept well, was fully refreshed and jumping with energy. Just watching her skips and leaps was exhausting.

‘For Heaven's sake! Would you settle down now? Sure this is only our first morn' and already you're planning heading out for an evening of fun. Let's concentrate on finding the lecture room instead.' Margaret spoke with the command of a theatre sister about to get the team concentrating on the fascinations of a swab count.

We'd breakfasted in the Home's dining room. It led directly from the reception area and with its big light-filled space, pine panelling and chrome service area, was more like a large restaurant. It also catered for the general hospital so the place was full of other users, marked by their different uniforms and busy in conversation.

We, however, had to be somewhere else. Margaret might not have had a seniority badge but we trooped behind her as, assuming natural leadership, she led the way.

Miss MacCready had given directions to the maternity hospital. ‘Through from the dining room and straight ahead. The classroom's as easy to find as the nose on your face.'

Dressed in green, designed to dazzle and arguing with the night porter about a key, the receptionist was an easier find than this room, a poor relation tucked by the back door of the maternity unit and reached by a covered concrete job of a walkway. There were silo-like changing rooms off it. They were for the non-resident Belfast girls, some of whom had now joined us in the classroom and were about to take seats. Like us, they wore blue uniforms with aprons tied in crosses at the back.

Margaret pulled on hers, hawser-like and checked her sausage curls were still in curfew zone under her cap. Her lipstick was smudged. Maybe wearing a theatre mask blunted makeup skills below eye level. Undaunted, she said, ‘I was thinking, Seonaid, it's early enough to be gadding about and maybe we should be giving some thought to these instead.' As she passed it she nodded at a blackboard where the words ‘Lie'
,
‘Attitude' and ‘Position' were written, then she moved to stake a claim on the front row.

‘That's the first lecture of the day over then.' I joined Seonaid, who'd made a beeline to the back. ‘Mind these words do look kind of interesting but not half as much as – what did you call it?'

‘Showband. Had you not any in Sin City?'

‘Pipe Bands,' I said, remembering their skirl and finding it hard to equate the memory of them playing in the Union Street Gardens with vice or fast living. ‘I'm beginning to wonder if there was a side of the city that I never saw but wish I had.'

‘Well I've never been there. Still, I'm thinking you've taken a bit of granite over with you. See?' Seonaid nodded at Margaret and Cynthia who, square-jawed, were vying for position nearest the lectern. Lorna was sitting behind them and giving them the attention of someone studying life under the microscope.

‘The apron ties make them look like a pair of St Andrew's flags too, but from the back I suppose we all do.'

‘But they'll be the biggest.' Seonaid patted her knees as if encouraging them to grow then leant forward. ‘Sweet Jesus! Why would you want to be sitting so near the front? It's right under the line of fire!' She shook her head. ‘Not for me – that's for sure.'

‘Me neither,' sighed Marie, sliding in beside us. ‘And where do they get that poise? They're both so full of it.' She pulled on her earlobe, her first and most definite action glimpsed since arrival. ‘And are they not just made to be matrons now?'

‘Built for it for sure but they're bound to improve. Anyway,' Seonaid angled her head towards Marie and momentarily pulled one knee as if limbering up, ‘I'll tell you something that's more important, and that's you should stop all this worrying. Have you not qualified to be a state registered nurse? You're every bit the same as all of us here. And was that not a lot to cope with?' She sucked her lips and scissored her ankles. ‘Now that was stressful. D'you know, before my finals I even gave up a whole month's dancing.'

‘Sssshh!' Marie rolled her eyes as a tutor strode into the room.

She was so like my favourite no-nonsense Edinburgh auntie with her brisk walk, precise Scots accent and corrugated iron hair I sat up, surprised, and rubbed my eyes.

‘Good morning, Nurses. And a very warm welcome to The Royal Maternity Hospital.' She was tall and wore a cap banded the same green as her dress. Her gaze had the look of approval you'd give to a tray of finely-baked scones. ‘I'm Miss Harvey and I'm your main tutor. You will have others but your training is my responsibility, which won't be too much of a challenge, I imagine, given that you're all registered nurses and as such, know the payoff of study, endeavour and professional behaviour.'