Dreams Can Come True (41 page)

The midwife ran to Bridget’s mixing bowl and lifted out a pair of metal blades. She wiped them carefully with a birthing cloth and handed them to the sweating doctor. She watched in fascination as he attached one blade to each side of the baby’s little head and started pulling. There wasn’t any movement, so he shouted to Maggie to try to push again. From somewhere inside his patient’s brain the command began to filter and she heard this terrible mooing sound, like a cow that had its byre nearby.

“Got it! Ah, she’s a little beauty,” the doctor gasped, then he cut the cord that attached the child to Maggie, turned the infant upside down and slapped it sharply on the shoulder. The child took in a lung full of air and began to cry plaintively.

“It’s yellow, doctor,” Mrs. Murphy said wonderingly, as she took the whimpering baby off him and wrapped it up in a large square of rag.

“Have yer seen this? It’s like one of those chinky babies.”

She lowered her voice and said to the doctor.

“Do yer think the father was one of those Chinese men?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I met the now-deceased Mr. Haines last year and he looked as white as you or me do. Anyway, see to Mrs. Haines, will you? Give me the child back and I’ll call for Mrs. Heaney. She can be cleaning and dressing it downstairs while you make your patient comfortable. I fear that our tea will probably have gone cold now, so perhaps she can be persuaded to make another one.”

Maggie groaned as Mrs. Murphy pressed on her sore stomach in an effort to bring out the afterbirth. The feeling was beginning to return in her body and everything that the opium mixture had managed to block out returned with a vengeance. She felt so weary. She wanted to sleep for a million years, or at least until these horrible pains had gone away from her. Something kept dragging in the back of her mind and she wondered why it was that she’d been suffering such a torment. Perhaps an even worse bout of ‘flu than the one she’d caught in Liverpool that time. Though why did her private parts below feel so sore and tender?

“Doctor’s taken her down to Mrs. Heaney. He’ll be slipping a drop of brandy into his cup of tea by now.”

“Taken who? Oh!” It all came flooding back to her. “Taken my baby. What did I have? Oh God, the suffering.”

“You had a little girl. A tiny little thing, but doctor says she’s a beauty. Yer wouldn’t believe that such a little thing could cause such mayhem. We nearly lost yer, Mrs. Haines, in fact at one time I thought we had! But never mind, here yer still are. Now, lift yerself up for me and I’ll clear away those dirty rags.”

Down in the kitchen the doctor was helping himself to a tot of brandy while Frank did the honours of making the tea. Bridget clucked away like a mother hen, as she washed the tiny newborn on a clean towel laid on the table.

“Poor little thing, what did the doctor do to yer then? Will these little bruises go, Dr Kerrigan? I could put some arnica on. Oh, in a day or two, they’ll begin to fade then. Have yer seen her tiny lashes, Frank? They’re like little curly feathers, and look at her sweet little nails; they look like tiny shells you’d find on the shore. Oh, the little dote. Come to me, sweetheart, while I wrap yer up in the pretty shawl your mama made yer. Oh, Frank, isn’t she adorable? just come and have a look.”

“There is a bit of a problem, Mrs. Heaney,” the doctor broke in, as Bridget happily cuddled the child to her chest.

“You’ll have noticed that her skin is a bit on the yellow side, which isn’t natural at all. I don’t know what causes it and it could clear up in a few days.”

“They’ve had that at the convent,” Bridget said. “ Yer know I have a sister there, Doctor? She’s always telling me what goes on with those fallen women that are in her care. Perhaps she could tell us what to do next time we see her.”

“A better idea would be to take the baby over,” said her husband. “ Better to be safe than sorry, don’t yer think?”

“I would agree with you, Mr. Heaney, if it wasn’t for the fact that Mrs. Haines should be suckling her baby now. Ideally, the child should have gone straight to the breast, but I had given my patient a good deal of mixture to help her through it all and I don’t want it to affect her baby in any way. I could bind her breasts though and give her time to recover, then when you bring the baby back we could unbind her breasts again.”

“But meantime, what will the baby live off? It’s not as if we could lay our hands on a bottle and a teat, is it, Frank?”

“Surely the convent could solve that problem too?”

The doctor looked at his fob watch. It was time he was off; his job was done. His tummy was rumbling and he knew his housekeeper would be keeping his dinner warm for him.

“I’ll look in on Mrs. Haines next time I’m passing, but meanwhile I’ll leave you all in the midwife’s capable hands.”

“He shot off a bit quick, didn’t he?” said Mrs. Murphy, when she came down to burn the rags on the kitchen fire.

“Did he say anything about all this yellowy skin? Oh, look, she’s sleeping; she must be as tired as her mammy.”

“I was telling him that they’ve had babies like this at the convent and Frank suggested we took her there so the nuns could take a look.”

“I don’t know,” said the midwife, uncertainly. “She hasn’t had a feed yet, but her mother’s so exhausted that she’s fallen asleep. Do yer think yer could get her back in a couple of hours?”

“The doctor was saying that he’d given Maggie a little mixture, so he was going to bind her breasts up for a little while anyway.”

“Oh yes, the opium. I suppose he thinks it would be dangerous if that was passed on through the breast milk. Well, I’ll do as he says and
I’ll
bind her up, as long as you’re back in a couple of hours.”

“Does anybody know what Maggie was going to call this baby?” asked Frank, as he took the child from his wife, while she filled a basket with cloths and baby clothes then donned her heavy shawl.

“Yes, she told me yesterday,” the midwife said. “It’s Rosemary. Rosemary fer a little girl, Bernard fer a boy.”

Eddie came striding into the drawing room at Selwyn Lodge where Hannah was sitting breastfeeding Georgie. Her husband’s eyes were angry as he threw himself down beside her on the settee.

“What’s got you into a tizzy, Eddie?” Hannah asked, as she pushed little Johnny towards his father. “See, grab Johnny before he falls over, will you? He’s taken his first steps today and he keeps falling down and hurting himself.”

Eddie lifted the child up on to his knee, feeling himself growing calmer as he stroked his little boy’s downy head.

“Mr. Arlington’s been into the office. Richard said he called in this morning and was wanting to know where Maggie is. Said he wanted her address and the address of her solicitor. Yer know what all this is about, don’t you?”

“Well, it’s obvious that Alice sent him. Probably on behalf of Michael. It doesn’t matter, does it, Eddie? I thought we had decided to make life difficult for him.”

“It’s not that, it’s all this sneaking around that gets to me. Why can’t Michael just turn up on the doorstep here instead of getting his grandma and Mr. Arlington involved?”

“Because basically, Michael’s a coward. Always has been really. When we were little he was always running to Maggie or telling our nursemaid instead of squaring up to me.”

Eddie smiled. “So yer weren’t Miss Goody Two Shoes then? That’s what you’ve always told me?”

“No, I wasn’t. But he can have the lot in a couple of months when we’ve moved ourselves into Redstone House.”

“It’s a pity that Maggie hasn’t written back yet,” Eddie remarked. “I’d be a whole lot happier if she’d sent over some legal papers for us. We don’t even know if she wants Michael to take over the business and the absence of her authorisation is making me think that she doesn’t.”

“Well, whatever she thinks it’s too late now, isn’t it? You’ve put down the money for our new house now. Come on, cheer up, soon you’ll be the Master of all you survey!”

That’s the trouble, Eddie thought worriedly. Will I be the Master of very much?

“Where you just passing by, Eddie, or are you finished for the day? It looks rather murky outside. I suppose we can’t expect anything different at this time of the year.”

“I’d popped in to see Richard over something, Hannah, that’s when he told me. I’m on me way to Daisy Bank to check out two of the villas. We’ve two families wanting to move in before Christmas, but with darkness coming so early now there’s a bit of a scramble to be ready in time.”

“I’ve every faith in your capabilities, my darling,” said Hannah. “On your way out tell Olive to bring me in a cup of tea, will you? Oh and by the way, she’s leaving when we do. She’s gone and found herself another place.”

Katie walked down the High street to wait at the Cross to catch the hospital visitor’s bus. She had stayed again at Annie’s house, hoping and praying that a letter would come from Michael. It had been weeks now since their afternoon tea at Seagull Cottage; something that she looked back upon with an excited little thrill. She was visiting Barleymow Terrace a lot more now than she used to do, making Annie wonder if she was being checked upon. Their brother had appeared from heavens knows where and a repentant Annie now cooked and cleaned for him.

Or rather, Mrs. Piper did, so Katie thought. She had a lot of sympathy for Annie’s mother in law.

It was three days before Rosemary was returned to Maggie. Three days that Maggie hardly noticed, as she lay in her bedroom drifting in and out of a sleep-filled haze. The midwife had tiptoed in apologetically, changing her patient’s bindings, smoothing warm castor oil on her patient’s tender breasts, helping her onto the chamber pot and wiping down her hands and face.

It was a bit of a shock for Maggie when she suddenly found herself staring down at the trusting face of a tiny infant, its brown eyes staring up at her and its round pink mouth twitching hungrily.

This must be Rosemary, Maggie sighed; her and Johnny’s love child.

Bridget was standing at the end of the bed, watching the reunion gleefully.

“See, Maggie. The nuns have worked their miracles. Pinker than pink now they’ve got rid of that awful yellow. I knew they would, and now our little Rosemary’s reunited with her mammy.”

She found herself brushing away a tear with her emotion, asked if anyone wanted a cup of tea and quickly ran from the bedroom.

“She’s overcome, poor little gosling,” said Mrs. Murphy, to no one in particular. “Now, we’ll get this binding off yer, shall we, and baby can have a good suck? That should bring your milk a flowing. It’ll hurt fer a minute, but the more yer do it the easier it’ll get. Now,” and she took Maggie’s breast in one hand and shoved the hungry baby onto the nipple. “That should do it.”

It was snowing in Ballina that Christmas time. People scurried off to church for various Masses, bought food to last them for days and chose little presents for their loved ones on the stalls at the market; children made snowmen and played with their friends.

In the back bedroom of the Heaney hotel, Maggie sat in a low chair nursing her baby. Why didn’t she love this little child she’d recently given birth to, she wondered? The tiny girl was beautiful and, now she had got into a routine of feeding and sleeping, was no trouble at all. She stared at Rosemary’s perfect little features. A button nose, a rosebud mouth, black shiny hair that was already beginning to curl, dainty little hands with fingers that curled confidently around Maggie’s and clear pink skin on her lovely face.

Bridget had dressed the child for Maggie. She’d done it willingly every morning, as Maggie couldn’t bear to lift or bend. Is that the problem, Maggie thought. I blame the poor child for all my pain?

“I’ve brought yer a bit of cake and a cup of tea, Maggie. Can I hold the baby while yer drink your tea?” Bridget came in, bustling with energy and eagerly and swooped to pick up the baby.

“Oh, will yer look at her in her pretty frock. You’re so clever with your crochet hook, Maggie. Now, yer will try to come downstairs tomorrow fer your Christmas dinner, won’t yer? Frank and I are going to Midnight Mass this evening, which will give me plenty of time in the morning to cook our dinner. I’ve got a fresh chicken from Hancock’s and I went this afternoon to the market fer the vegetables, and Frank and I have bought a little something fer our Rosemary.”

“You shouldn’t go spending your money,” Maggie said wearily. “Especially fer a baby who doesn’t know it’s Christmas Day.”

“Well, we’ve got something fer you too.”

“Oh, Bridget, I’ve nothing fer either of you being laid up here with the baby. But next week’s me third week and I can start getting back on my feet again.”

“But yer can come down tomorrow, Maggie, can’t you? Just fer a couple of hours? We really want to celebrate Rosemary’s first Christmas in the family.”

“Matron wants to see you, Staff Nurse,” said Sister Gill, as Katie was halfway through the first shift of the New Year. “Something exciting perhaps to start the year off well. Run along now; I can see to young Mr. Robertson for you. Pass me over that walking crutch before you go.”

Katie sped along on winged feet to Matron’s office. It must be a letter from Michael. He had probably been too busy to see her over Christmas time and to make amends had sent one via the hospital. Oh, it would be worth all the heartache she’d been having, just to see his writing and read his words once again.