Wishes and Tears (5 page)

Janet knew everyone was awake and listening at their doors trying to find out what was happening. When Janet walked into the bedroom Sue sat up and began asking loads of questions.

When finally Janet had finished telling her all she knew, she tried to sleep. But the noise of Freda crying out, and loud urgent voices coming from the passage outside the bedroom told her that something was very wrong.

 

The following morning, when the girls were seated for breakfast and Sister Verity had said grace, she went on to say, ‘I expect you are wondering what happened to Miss Long last night. Well, she was taken to the hospital and was delivered of a boy.'

Smiles and chatter quickly broke out. But they immediately fell silent when Sister added, ‘Unfortunately, the child was born dead.'

Janet took in her breath and asked, ‘What about Freda-Miss Long - is she all right?'

‘She is very poorly, that's all we know.'

‘Can I go and see her?'

The expression on Sister Verity's face had to be seen to be believed. First she went white, then as the colour returned her nostrils flared and she held on to her breath. Janet knew then how Oliver Twist must have felt when he asked for more.

‘I'm afraid that is impossible. Once you girls are handed over to the hospital you are out of our hands. Of course we will pray for her at prayer time.'

Janet wanted to scream at her. What was it about these people? They weren't pieces of meat to be handed over. There was her father preaching about the Lord's good works, and these women, who thought they were being righteous by looking after fallen girls, but deep down did any of them have an ounce of compassion? She didn't think so.

Sue gently put her hand on Janet's tight fist. ‘She'll be all right,' she whispered. ‘She might be little, but she's a fighter. Don't worry, she'll write as soon as she can.'

Janet smiled weakly at Sue and murmured her thanks. Tears filled her eyes. She was going to miss Freda so much. She looked at Sister Verity, who was carrying on as if nothing had happened. What if Freda died? Janet might never know. She would write to her at the hospital. She couldn't wait till prayers; she closed her eyes and silently said her own. ‘Please, God, look after her.' She so desperately wanted Him to hear her lone voice.

Janet sat in the day room and stared out at the garden. She was so down. It was two weeks since Freda had left. Janet had written to her in the hospital but she hadn't replied. Had she received the letter? Was she all right? Janet didn't have Freda's home address. Would she ever see her again? Was she still alive? All those weeks wasted when they thought they had plenty of time to exchange addresses. She wished with all her heart that she could have gone to see her friend in hospital, but knew only husbands were allowed to visit in the maternity ward. Poor Freda, no husband and now no baby. In many ways that might be for the best; at least she hadn't got the worry of who would be looking after him.

Janet thought about the laughs they'd had together, the way Freda had taught her to experiment with her make-up and hair. She felt a very different person now, more confident somehow. In the short time they had been together Janet could not believe how strangely happy she'd been, and now it was all over.

‘Jan? Jan?' Someone was softly calling her name.

She looked round. ‘Sue.'

‘Sorry, did I wake you?'

‘No. What is it?'

‘Sister Verity wants to see you.'

‘What about?'

‘Don't know.'

‘Perhaps it's about Freda.' Janet quickly stood up and hurried as fast as her bulk would allow to Sister Verity's office. She gently knocked on the door.

‘Come in. There you are, Miss Slater. I want you to put all of Miss Long's things into this bag.' She held out a brown paper bag. ‘You can throw out anything like old papers or magazines.'

Janet took the bag. ‘Is she all right?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Could you phone and ask?'

‘They are much too busy to be worried about Miss Long. Besides, I expect her family have been informed so she will be going home. By the way, you can stay with Miss Taylor.'

‘Thank you.' Janet left the room. She didn't mind sharing with Sue.

Janet sat in the bedroom she had shared with Freda. Both the beds had been stripped down to the mattresses waiting for the new arrivals. It was as though she and Freda had never existed. Tears slowly began to slide down Janet's cheeks and she brushed them away with the flat of her hand.

She began to take Freda's things from the wardrobe; she didn't have much. They must have put her coat on her when they took her to the hospital. Janet looked at the set of underwear she had bought her for Christmas. On an impulse she searched for a piece of paper and wrote her name and address on it, adding, ‘Don't forget me', then folded it in with Freda's things. When she'd finished she took the bag to Sister's office.

Every day Janet hoped she would receive a letter from Freda but it never came. On 19 February she eagerly waited for a birthday card from her, but again she was disappointed. The card she had from her parents was flowery and the words affectionate, as all her birthday cards had been. The accompanying letter said they had bought her a dress, which they were keeping as it wasn't worth sending. As usual her mother had done the writing. As she thought about her parents Janet realized how little she knew of them. Although she knew when their birthdays were, she didn't know how old they were; those questions had always been taboo. How strange and sad their lives were.

Janet was sleeping at the back of the house now. Sue had gone and the other girls had been told she'd had a baby girl. Janet now shared with Milly, a nice enough girl, who giggled nervously a lot.

She looked out of the window. If only she could keep her baby, they wouldn't have any secrets. Spring was in the air. The sun was warm in a bright blue sky. This was a nice time of the year to be born. The straggly shrubs were starting to look pretty with bright green leaves beginning to unfold. ‘Bit like you,' she said to her stomach. She talked a lot to her unborn baby. She knew she shouldn't think of the baby as hers, or form a bond with her, but it was too late. She couldn't help herself.

 

At the beginning of March Janet's back had been aching all day and she felt tired. Not like yesterday when she'd seemed to be full of energy.

‘Reckon you'll be having it soon,' said Milly.

‘I hope so. I feel as if I've been expecting for years. I've been here longer than anyone else. I feel like part of the furniture, I've seen so many come and go.'

As she moved a sharp pain made her catch her breath. Was this it? Had she started? Half of her was pleased and the other half petrified.

She sat on her bed and looked at her watch. No point in telling anyone at the moment, not till she was sure. Milly, looking every bit as apprehensive, sat with her, holding her hand.

When the contractions were coming regularly every five minutes she asked Milly if she'd tell Sister Verity.

‘Go into the doctor's room and get on the bed. He will be with you shortly.' Sister Verity swept out of the room leaving Milly to accompany Janet down the corridor.

Once there, Janet struggled to get on the bed. ‘Why do they have to be so high?' she said out loud.

Dr Winter came in and did his usual poking about. ‘Yes, I think we can safely say it's on its way. I'll get my car. Gather your things together and meet me out front.'

Milly had been hovering in the corridor. ‘Well?' she asked.

‘I'm on my way at last,' said Janet with a grin.

‘I'll pop up and get your case.'

‘Thanks.'

All the girls, as their dates approached, gradually packed everything they possessed ready for their next and last move.

Returning, Milly put Janet's case on the floor and hugged her. ‘Good luck.'

‘Thanks, and to you too.' Janet smiled and walked away from the place that had been her home for over four months. Up until Christmas she been very happy but since Freda had left it hadn't been the same. She had to hold on to the car's door till another wave of pain passed.

 

In the hospital she was put to bed, shaved and given an enema. A nurse took her pulse, blood pressure and temperature and listened to her baby's heartbeat.

‘Well, everything seems to be under control, now all we have to do is wait.' She went out of the room, leaving Janet alone.

For what seemed like hours Janet lay moaning in pain. She tossed and turned and held on to the back of the bed. She was frightened, she wanted someone with her. What if something went wrong? She rang the bell behind her bed.

A nurse opened the door and looked in. ‘Everything all right in here?'

‘Could I have something to ease the pain?' she gasped.

‘Not yet. Wait till you're in the delivery room,' came the answer.

When the door closed once again Janet cried. She wanted her mother, Freda, anyone to hold her hand, mop her brow and give her comforting words. She screwed up her face with another contraction, and hated Sam with all her might.

A doctor came and examined her. ‘Nurse, you can take Miss Slater along to the delivery room now.'

Her bed was pushed out of the room, down the long corridor and into a cold clinical room. Nurses wearing face masks stood over her. Her legs were put into stirrups and cold metal instruments shoved inside her. She felt faint.

‘Gas and air,' she heard someone say and a rubber mask was placed over her face.

Grabbing the mask she took great frantic breaths and held on to it with all the strength she could muster, terrified someone was going to take it away from her, grateful at last for something to cling on to. She drifted into a pain-free world for what seemed to be only a second or two.

The mask was being snatched from her. She fought to hang on to it.

‘Come on now, Miss Slater. You have got to start pushing and you can't do it if you are half dopey.'

She closed her eyes, she didn't want to push, she wanted to sleep. Then suddenly the great urge to push was on her.

‘That's right. Push,' said a disembodied voice.

Janet was too frightened to open her eyes.

‘And again.'

She did as she was told. Sweat was pouring from her forehead and into her eyes. Her hair was wet and sticking to her face; she tried to brush it away. She grabbed the sheet, screwing in up into a ball and, between pushing, felt a pain in her hand where her fingernails were digging in her palm.

‘Come now, push.'

Then, as if with an urgent rush to be born, the baby she had been carrying around for nine months was suddenly taking its first breath. She had given birth - given life. She eased herself up when she heard the first snuffly cries, then lay back exhausted.

‘It's a girl.'

‘Can I see her?'

‘After she's been cleaned up.'

Janet opened her eyes just in time to see a nurse hurry from the room holding her baby.

 

Janet was stitched, cleaned up and her bed pushed back into a ward with other women. She closed her eyes; she didn't want to talk.

‘All right, girl?' said a voice close by.

‘Yes, thanks.' She turned over. Why didn't they let her see her baby? Was she all right? Was she deformed?

‘You don't have to be unsociable, you know.'

‘Leave her be,' said another voice. ‘Let her get some sleep. Having a baby's bloody hard work.'

‘I know that, don't I? I've had enough of 'em.'

‘Yer, but it's like shelling peas for the likes of you. She only looks a kid.'

‘I was only trying to be friendly.'

All these women were talking about her as if she wasn't there. Janet was worried. She wanted to see her baby and to shut these voices out.

The banging of the tea trolley pushing the ward's door open seemed to be the women's highlight of the afternoon and they chatted excitedly and very loud.

‘Come along now, Miss Slater, it's time for tea.' The nurse said it loud and clear and the ward went silent.

Janet turned to face her. She was standing over her with a cup of tea in her hand. Slowly she sat up, aware that all the other women were looking at her.

‘When can I see my baby?' she asked.

‘Sorry, I can't help you with that. Do you want some bread and jam?'

Janet shook her head.

‘Please yourself. You don't get anything else to eat tonight, next meal is breakfast.' She returned to the trolley and pushed it along to the next bed.

The chatter began again and Janet looked around. She was at the end of the ward. The woman who had spoken to her at first was next to her. She was in her thirties. She quickly looked the other way when Janet smiled at her.

After tea, when the cups and plates had been collected, the babies were brought in to be fed. Janet sat up and waited. A nurse came and laid a baby in her arms. Janet looked down at her. This was hers. She wanted to cry with joy at this lovely bundle that smelt of soap and talcum powder. The baby's eyes were closed and she had a screwed-up face, a mop of black hair and her mouth was moving. Janet counted her fingers and marvelled at the perfect nails. She had never seen a new-born baby before. She was so small. Janet gently put her baby's hand to her mouth and kissed it. She was trying to unravel the blanket to look at her feet when a nurse came up.

‘Now come along. Baby wants her tea.'