the maltese angel (35 page)

Philip Patten said nothing for a moment. Then he put a hand on Patsy's shoulder, saying, "You've got a wise and kind head on your shoulders, Patsy. Should everything else fail, these two qualities will always stand you in good stead."

Her colour had risen; and she laughed gently, but then glanced quickly towards the open bedroom door as if to brush the compliment aside and said, "That isn't a general opinion. Doctor. Even me ma's got a name for me."

"What is that?" He was smiling as he leant towards her.

"The Black Vixen."

"Oh ... never!"

"Oh yes; when I wouldn't do her biddin' as a child, that's what she used to call me."

"But no longer, I hope."

"Oh, I don't know. There are still times when the st our flies."

He flapped his hand at her as he went away smiling, thinking he well knew the reason why the st our flew, for her mother was one of the laziest women he knew of: the house was like the proverbial pigsty.

Yet laughter was never far from the woman's face. But here was her daughter, solemn-faced mostly, yet beautifully solemn- faced. Oh

yes;

she was a bonny piece, and she was as clean as a new pin. That had likely been the result of her training under Annie, those long years ago.

In the kitchen, Annie enquired, "Well, how do you find her, Doctor?"

"I'm not quite sure, Annie," he replied.

"Only I've told Patsy if the child continues to have those pains in her side to let me know. I'll be quite close round about for the next

couple of days, but on Friday I'm taking two days off. I haven't had any leave for some time. It's to be the equivalent of a cowman's

holiday spent helping with the harvest, for I'm going to attend a

couple of medical lectures."

"Oh. Well, what'll happen then, Doctor, say she comes on on Friday?

Shall I have to send for his nibs? "

"Oh, I hope not. But if it should happen that someone is needed, well, you'll have to."

"He's kept his distance all these months, hasn't he, Doctor?"

"Yes, I suppose he has, Annie."

"Wanted to show the village which side he was on, I suppose."

He could have replied, "Not so much the village, Annie, but the gentry round about, at least those who were present at that special Sunday service." But Annie spoke his thoughts for him by remarking

caustically, "He's like the vicar, frightened he'll lose his place at the big tables."

He laughed now as he said, "Perhaps ... perhaps you're right. Well, I must be off. Something in the oven smells good." He sniffed towards it, and she answered, "Nothing more than usual ... a bit of pork," then added, 'onion sauce and a suet pudding. Workhouse fare, really. "

He chuckled as he went out of the room repeating, "Yes, Annie, workhouse fare."

He paid a brief visit on the Thursday afternoon. Jessie was with her sister, and her report was, "Yes, sometimes she does rub her sides; but not all the time," to which Philip said, " Good. Good," and went on to repeat to her what he had said to Annie previously, that he

would be away on the morrow and Saturday; but should there be an

emergency she must call Doctor Wheatley; and she answered that she too hoped nothing would happen to make her call on Doctor Wheatley, but that she also hoped he would enjoy his little holiday, to which he smilingly replied, " I don't know about enjoy. If I manage to come away a little wiser, that will be satisfactory. " Then he pulled a slight face as he said, " He is one of the great men from London, and I am very lucky to have been given a seat," but immediately brought the subject matter back to her:

"Where is your father?" he asked. And when Jessie said, "He's out on the farm," he exclaimed, "Oh, that's good. I'm glad he's getting out and about again. I won't trouble to find him, but tell him

everything's in order."

"I will. Doctor."

On returning to the bedroom, she said to Angela, "Isn't Doctor Patten nice?"

But to this Angela made no reply; what she did do was to place her hands down her sides again, and her face twisted slightly, causing her to grimace as if she were experiencing pain.

Jessie peered down into Angela's face to make sure she was asleep

before going round to the other side of the bed to turn the lamp down low and then taking her place in the bed beside her sister.

This pattern of childhood and youth had been taken up again some weeks earlier when it became evident that Jessie could no longer spend her nights dozing in a chair by the side of the bed and be expected to keep awake and attend to her sister during the day.

She hadn't slept in the bed from the start of Angela's illness because the girl herself had shunned close proximity with anyone at all, even with her. That Angela was aware of what was being said to her had been made plain one day when Patsy had spoken sternly to her,

saying, "You understand me. Miss Angela, don't you? you understand when I say that if you want to have Miss Jessie tend you during the day then you've got to let her sleep at nights, and in bed."

Jessie lay on her side for some time gazing at the indistinct mound in the bedclothes and wondering, as she often did, what would happen when the baby was born. Would Angela act as a mother to it? And how would her father treat it? Would it be a boy or a girl? Whatever it was, she knew it would be strange to have a small baby in the house; and, further, the work shared between her and Patsy would probably be

doubled. She wondered if she would be able to approach her father for help in the house. As it was now, but for himself in his room at the far end of the landing, she was alone:

Annie was in her cottage, and Carl and Patsy were in theirs. This

latter fact did not now disturb her. For the first week or so it had, when she would think of Patsy no longer sleeping above the stables, but in the cottage with Carl, and in bed with Carl. But gradually it

registered in her mind that it was an established fact, and it

registered, too, that they were both so very necessary inside and

outside the house. And so she wisely came round to telling herself it was done. She had her father, and he needed her. Oh yes, he needed her. But when the baby came there would be broken nights, for babies had to be seen to during the night, and if Angela did not fully return to her normal self, then she would never be able to take charge of the child.

But now, she said to herself as her eyelids became heavy, there was enough to worry about without anticipating further trouble; she must wait until the child was born and take it from there ..

She didn't know what time in the night it was when she was woken from a deep sleep by the sound of a groan. At first it seemed to be coming from some distance; then suddenly it was in her ear, and she sprang into a sitting position and dimly made out through her sleep-filled eyes that Angela was not only sitting up but bent forward, her hands clutching her stomach.

"What is it, dear? Are you in pain?"

For answer Angela just rocked herself from side to side; and Jessie sprang from the bed, turned up the light and was pulling on her

dressing-gown as she went round the bed, exclaiming, "It's all right, dear! It's all right." But when her sister flopped back into the pillows and lay gasping, she had the horrified feeling that it wasn't all right and that there would be no time before the responsibility of the baby was indeed upon her.

She now went to the wash-hand stand and brought a wet flannel back to the bed, and with it she began to wipe Angela's sweating face.

When she was almost thrust aside by her sister's outflung arm as Angela again sat upright and began to rock herself, Jessie looked wildly about her for a moment, before she rushed from the room and along the landing to hammer on her father's door. And when she heard a sort of grunting sound, she flung it open, crying, "Daddy! Daddy!

Angela's in great pain. Come, please! Come! " Then she was running back to the bedroom again.

A few minutes later, when Ward looked down on his daughter as she cried out aloud, he turned to Jessie, saying, "Go and get Carl. Tell him to ride for the doctor."

"Yes, Daddy."

She was at the bedroom door before she turned, saying, "But Doctor Patten is away."

He looked towards her, then seemed to grind his teeth for a moment before he said, "Well, you'll have to get the other one. And fetch Patsy back."

On reaching the hall she paused a moment before running into the

clothes closet, where she pulled off a peg one of her father's coats which she flung around her shoulders.

In the kitchen she put a match to a candle lantern;

and then she was out in the yard, the cold night air making her gasp.

At the cottages, she hammered with her fist on Carl's door, and in a loud voice she yelled, "Carl! Carl! Come quickly. Daddy wants you to get a doctor. Come on, Carl! Do you hear?"

It was a full minute before the door was pulled open, and Carl,

blinking down on her, said, "What on earth's the matter? What is it?"

"The baby ... the baby's coming. Daddy wants you to ride for the doctor. Doctor Patten is away; you'll have to get Doctor Wheadey. And

. and he wants Patsy."

Patsy had appeared at Carl's shoulder and Jessie said to her, "She's going to have the baby. She's dying out."

When Carl said, "Good Lord! It's only seven months gone," Patsy muttered, "I'm not surprised," and dashed back into the room, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be there as soon as I get into me clothes.

Miss Jessie. "

Carl now said, "Go on back. You'll be frozen."

When the adjoining cottage door opened and Annie appeared, enquiring,

"What is it, child? What's die rum pus?" Carl answered, "It's Miss Angela, Annie. I think the baby is about to come." And when Annie answered, "I'll be over directly," Patsy's voice came from their cottage, yelling, "You stay where you are, Annie!"

Annie made no retort to this, but, looking down on Jessie, she said,

"Get yourself back, dear, and into your clothes; you'll freeze," and with this she banged her door; and Jessie was running again.

Back in the cottage Carl began to pull on his outdoor clothes as he said, "I hate to go to old Wheadey's. It just would have to happen that Doctor Patten should be away the night." Then hurrying towards the door, he called, "See you, love," and Patsy's answer was brief:

"Sure."

Five minutes later he was on his horse, and within a further ten

minutes he was banging on Doctor Wheadey's door. But he had to bang for a third time before a window was opened and a female voice

called,

Who is it? "

He stepped back and looked at the bulky shoulders of the housekeeper, and he called up to her, "The doctor's wanted.

"Tis an emergency. The baby's coming Gibson's farm."

The head was withdrawn, but within a moment it seemed, the woman cried down to him, "Doctor's in no fit state; he's heavy with cold. He shouldn't be taken out of his bed."

Carl knew what he was heavy with, and it wouldn't be with cold, and so he cried back to her, "You rise him up; I want a word with him."

"He'll be no use to you, I tell you."

"Nevertheless, woman, get him up."

"Who do you think you are talkin' to? Don't you dare call me woman.

And he's not this long in bed; he shouldn't have been .. " There was a pause before she added, " He shouldn't have been out," and these words were practically cut off by the window being banged.

It was some minutes later when the door was pulled open and the

housekeeper stood grimly aside to let him enter; and there he saw the doctor shambling down the staircase, and having to aid himself by

holding on to the banister.

On reaching the bottom, he stood swaying, a sign giving no satisfaction to Carl that his surmise had been correct: the man had not long been in his bed and had been indulging as usual with some crony or other. The man was a disgrace.

"What time of night ... is this? What you want?"

"Mr. Gibson's daughter's child is about coming; and she needs attention."

"Well ... why come to me? Where's your favourite scientific modern man and ..."

The housekeeper was standing by him now, and she said something that was not audible to Carl, but the doctor seemingly understood, and he said, "Yes ... Yes. Playing the big fella." Then looking at Carl, he said, "I've ... I've got a chill on me.

I . I couldn't travel. " His words were becoming thicker.

Carl watched him turn an ear towards his housekeeper and nod; then he was speaking again: "As ... as this good woman says, there are two ..

two women there. They should ... be able to handle it.

"Tis a farm, isn't it? Seen things born before."

When his arm that had been around the stanchion of the stair-post slid slowly from it, and the florid bulk sat down with a plop on the second stair, Carl looked at the man in disgust, and he dared to say, "You're not fit to carry the name of a doctor, sir." And on this he turned and went out, and, having mounted his horse, he rode swiftly back to the farm.

When he reached the house it was to find Annie in the kitchen, the kettle bubbling on the hob and her busily cutting up a linen sheet into squares, and as she did so she greeted him with, "These are things that should have been already prepared, yet even these have been under

taboo. But nature will out, and it's shown it will out in this case Is he coming?"

"No; he's as full as a gun, mortallious, I would say."

"Dear God! Well, what's to be done?"

He looked at her in some surprise and said, "Couldn't you see to her, Annie?"

She looked down at her work and did not speak for a moment; then she said, "I've never had any childer of my own; and although I was in the room when the lasses were born, the doctor was there, and he did the necessary. Quite truthfully, lad, I'd be no hand at it. But your

Patsy now; she's helped bring calves into the world and a good few sheep, besides what she must have learned in the Hollow. She'll handle it all right."