It Shouldn't Happen to a Midwife! (21 page)

‘Ah, sure but she's not doin' too well.' Bridgit sighed and flapped her hands by her sides in frustration. ‘That pig's an overfat, lazy, ungrateful oulde sow. I'm thinkin' she's forgotten she's havin' anything but a good night's sleep.'

‘Could I go and see? I'm from a farm myself.'

‘And here training in midwifery.' Colette's voice came floating through. ‘Two midwives! How's that for timing? And hey, Seonaid! You should go too. You might pick up some tips.'

Verity's sty had a cosy feel conspicuously lacking in the Royal's labour ward. I don't suppose labouring women would have appreciated a straw bed, but there was a simple, uncomplicated feel to the place they might have preferred. An overhead-heating lamp gave it such a rosy glow it made you want to nestle up with the patient. She, however, merely gave us a measured look and grunted.

Plainly Benny felt we were surplus to requirement. He addressed his remarks to Verity, but she ignored him in much same way as he disregarded us. ‘Come on now, Ver. You told me you were ready. And now you're just lying there. It's time you were moving.' He stroked her ear as if to encourage her listening skills. Verity shifted restlessly. If she'd been a woman she'd have slapped his hand.

‘I think she's getting bothered.' Bridgit had arrived with a bottle of Fairy Liquid. She thrust it at her brother. ‘Here! You'll need this.'

Benny looked doubtfully at us then consulted Verity. ‘I'm hoping you don't mind an audience. The ladies might be thinking I'm a bit bold, but I'll need to find out what's happening inside.'

Throwing herself into the spirit of the dialogue, Seonaid bent down. ‘Don't you be worrying about us. You'd never imagine what us girls have seen already.' She sounded competitive.

Benny went as pink as Verity. ‘Oh well, here we go. Steady, girl!' Soaped from his hand to the armpit and all but disappearing, he reached up the pig's rear.

A couple of barn cats, drawn by the activity, arrived, took a ringside seat, pulling their tails about their feet as if cold, but giving Verity and her warming lamp a respectful space.

Colette would be far more comfortable. Since farrowing knowledge wasn't a clerical requisite it meant she could stay inside toasting her feet by a fire and putting night cream on a flawless complexion instead.

She was spared a dead pig.

‘Cord round the neck!' Seonaid was shocked. ‘Ah God!' She was on her knees and spoke with such pity, for a moment I thought she might perform the last rites.

‘Don't!' Maybe so did Benny.

But Seonaid was scrambling back. This was very sensible given that Verity's maternal instincts might at last be galvanised into action as, following the corpse, lots of healthy little squealers emerged. As if desperate to escape the first one's fate, leave their confines and gain the attention of a previously moribund mother, they came quickly.

‘Twelve! Now isn't that grand. A celebration it is then.' Benny, positively loquacious, was wreathed in smiles as, holding onto one beer, he poured the rest into a handy pail.

Seonaid and I exchanged glances, worried we were going to be offered a swig. But Bennie was catering for Verity. ‘You'll be thirsty after all that hard work and,' he surveyed the piglets plugging into their mother with gusto, ‘you'll be needing it and …' he popped open the remaining can and went to sit amongst the new family, ‘if I may, I'll join you. Keep you company for a bit. Come on, cats.' He patted his lap.

‘He's just checking Verity doesn't get hungry in the night and start eating her pigs. He'll be there for the rest of the night,' explained Bridgit as she showed us to our bedroom. ‘But you should sleep well and there'll be a good Irish breakfast ready for you in the morning. How many sausages?'

When she went away, Colette returned to her favourite theme. ‘Ach, Seonaid, would Benny not be a catch? This is a fine big farm, lovely house. You'd never be hungry and he's only a cousin twice removed. You'd be helping Brigit too.'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

Eyes gleaming, Seonaid sat up in bed, exasperated, then hissed, ‘Benny's too old and so's this house. It's full of ghosts. Can't you hear them?' Impossibly, her spiky hair was standing even more on end. Her face was shocked and white. ‘Listen!' She cupped an ear.

Then she lay back and disappeared into a deep sleep, leaving a host of creaks and groans to creep about, conspiring to ruin ours.

At least we heard no more about Benny and didn't see him the next morning either. Seonaid reckoned he was hiding but I wondered if he was still tucked up with Verity. He'd soon wake up once he knew his sister was composing a ‘
housekeeper wanted'
advertisement she planned on putting in the local paper.

It was late when we got to Salthill but we found a Bed and Breakfast easily enough with a landlady who worried neither about ghosts nor security.

‘The door's never locked, you can come and go as you like,' she said, ushering us into a bedroom where pink bedspreads screamed abuse at a wallpaper so busy with spots it was bound to give anybody, never mind a phantom, a migraine. It was hard not to switch the dazzling electric light off before our hostess left the room.

There'd been times when I'd wondered if we'd ever get here. A combination of old lorries, battered cars and circuitous routes by kind strangers wanting to show us beauty spots had taken us far from the main route. It might have been quicker hitching a lift from the horse-drawn gypsy caravans. Loitering along the roads with a tangle of children and dogs scattering happily about the wheels gave a feeling of elegant, relaxed progress.

We could, of course, had we time, have taken a ride on the donkeys that roamed the roads like free spirits, apparently ownerless and unchecked. Their presence lent a gentle charm to rural scenes where stone dykes stitched grey seams into a countryside, velvet-soft in every shade of green.

Still, what was a scenic tour compared to the bright lights of Salthill and which our landlady was now keenly promoting. ‘We're in a grand position for O'Connor's. You should go there. You'll enjoy it for sure. Just go out the door and follow the sound of music. It's great craic.'

She was right. The pub had the same vibrant charm as Kelly's but with the additional look of a local museum. Every conceivable space was crammed with a jumbled eclectic mix of pictures, old lamps, barometers and farming utensils. There was just enough room left to dance with music provided by an accordionist group so joyful it made our feet itch.

‘Don't leap too high or you might brain yourself.' Colette pointed to the lamps hanging from the rafters but Seonaid was off, partnered by a thin intense-looking bloke in a shiny blue suit.

Maybe he couldn't keep up with the pace of her flying heels. Instead and shortly after taking the floor, he seemed keener to draw her away to engage her in vehement chat in a quiet corner. He'd a nervous way and kept pushing back a lock of hair as if to make a point. He looked really interesting and Seonaid was listening hard until he searched in his pocket to draw out a small metal object.

Suddenly, with an abrupt shake of her head, she stood up, gesturing to us to join her in leaving.

‘Jasus, Seonaid! What's all that about?' Colette demanded as we stood in a surprised huddle outside the pub. ‘I've left my drink in there and it wasn't cheap.'

‘Ach never mind about that. Me heart's goin' like a hammer and I'm tremblin'. Feel that,' Seonaid, stretched out her wrist. ‘Take me pulse, Jane!'

‘Mmm, you're alive.'

Disappointed, she snatched back her arm. ‘It's racing, and not surprising either. Your man back there's just shown me a bullet. A bullet!'

‘Mother of God!' Even Colette was impressed. ‘Where would he get that?'

‘He says he's plenty. When he heard we worked in Belfast, he asked if I could give him contacts. Says it's time for a United Ireland. He showed me that bullet to prove he was serious.'

The music from O'Connor's swirled and eddied about us. It was a happy, exuberant sound yet it couldn't chase away a fog of unease chillingly settling about us. Salthill had seemed such a cheerful place. Seonaid's encounter with a man who spoke of unity and bullets said something else.

I offered, ‘Maybe he was joking and he did seem to be on his own. Look, I don't know about you, but I'm whacked. Why don't we just go back to the Bed and Breakfast? It's been a long day. Things will look different in the morning.'

And for once there was no argument.

Compared to last night's menacing undertones, an early morning's sisterly wrangle sounded positive and healthy. Leaving a godless person to sleep on undisturbed, the girls had gone to catch early Mass. Their return was less discreet.

‘Ah, Colette, I can't believe you took two shillings out of the collection plate.' Seonaid sounded outraged.

Colette had the injured voice of the righteous. ‘What else could I do? I only
had
two and six. I could only afford sixpence. Anyway, I might need money for getting home.' She prised open her purse, eyed its contents then snapped it shut. ‘Somebody round here needs to be careful.'

There were no further sightings of the purse until we were returning home. We'd had a lift from a lorry driver who was going as far as the official border: a casual affair.

As we got out, Seonaid pointed to a man selling something. There was such a roaring trade for it, a queue of people had formed, waiting their turn. ‘Look, they've got oysters. What about having one?'

‘No!' Colette said unsurprisingly.

‘I've never tasted one,' I said. ‘What are they like?'

‘They're two shillings each, and a delicacy. Very tasty. Oh, let's each buy one. Just to finish off the holiday. Go on, Colette, you'll be wanting one when you see us having ours.' Seonaid was in full cajoling mode. Maybe she just wanted to see the purse being opened.

‘Oh well then. Might as well, but it better be good.' With some ceremony, Colette took out her money and grudgingly handed it over. Pleased, Seonaid trotted off to come back shortly after, a smile on her face, three shells in her hand.

‘Is that them?' Colette was shocked. ‘You really mean we only get one each?'

‘How do you eat them?' I was curious.

‘Swallow in a oner,' said Seonaid.

‘I'm going to chew mine.' Colette was adamant. ‘I'll never get the taste of such a little thing otherwise.'

Seonaid had tipped hers into her mouth, smacked her lips then wiped them on the back of her hand. ‘Mm!' She eyed her sister as she dithered with hers. ‘Would you hurry up!'

Colette opened her delicate mouth and held the oyster, savouring the moment whilst Seonaid looked on.

There was a pause, then – ‘Yuck!' She suddenly threw it away in horror.

Pointing to it quivering on its shell, her sister had mused, ‘Does it not just look like a dirty big snotter?'

Miss Harvey was like an exasperated general dealing with a Home Guard group incapable of marching in time. In her classroom, the last place it intended practising, the class fidgeted and squirmed.

Marie was clicking her rosary beads and in a world of her own. So was Seonaid – probably thinking up new ways to annoy Colette or Matron, having recently been sent to her for another lecture, this time on time keeping.

‘Ah, sure it doesn't worry me so much now,' she'd shrugged. ‘I just opened my eyes wide, trained them on Matron's left ear, looked surprised then checked my watch. I thanked her for being so keen to advise me, and I mustn't be late for getting on duty. She got rid of me far quicker than the last time I was there. I bet it was to check herself in the mirror.'

‘I think she's a beautiful person. I often visit her,' Margaret had said by way of comfort. ‘Just for a chat, you know.'

‘I'd say an evening with a boa constrictor would be more fun.' Lorna breathed on her spectacles to clean them then put them on, magnifying her twinkle.

Marie whispered, ‘Sure, and I don't think that'd be a nice pet to keep. Mammy would have a fit if I took one home.'

Maybe that was what was now occupying her thoughts.

As the class continued with its own thoughts and aware concentration was elsewhere, Miss Harvey lost her cool. ‘Would you please pay attention!' She knuckle-rapped the desk. ‘In two weeks, you'll have your theory and clinical exam. You'll also need to have all of your record books completed.' Her voice dropped to the tones of one discussing a dear departed. ‘Of course you know everything's going to depend on you passing these exams for you to move on to Second Part. Our consultant obstetricians will be taking the clinical part.'

Aware she now had complete attention and eye contact no longer a problem, she moved into full military mode, hardening her jaw and speaking slowly and very clearly. ‘They'll be expecting a professional presentation so it's up to you to find out all you can about your patients. As you should know by now, confinements here are based on a likelihood of complications so you need to be on the lookout for anything and everything. Understood?'

‘Yes, Miss Harvey.'

She seemed sufficiently pleased with the response to hand out prizes. ‘Practice is the key word so I've arranged for you to go as a group to the antenatal clinics. That should prove invaluable.'

‘We've been there!' chorused Margaret and Cynthia.

‘Well a little more experience won't do you any harm, as I'm sure you'll agree, Nurse Smythe.'

Cynthia, minus double barrel, was plainly out of favour but it didn't stop her squinting down that splendid nose. ‘Can't I go to the labour ward instead? I'm short of normal deliveries. I'll need them to get my record book completed.'