A Gift for the District Nurses

‘What happens is, they try to get rid of the baby. If they’re poor they won’t have access to any means of doing so safely, and so they try to bring it about by themselves. There are lots of ways and none of them are pleasant. Many are downright dangerous – and one of the consequences can be septicaemia.’

Ruby’s hand went to her throat. ‘I … I didn’t think …’

‘No, no.’ Gwen tutted. ‘As I said, it’s not your job to diagnose. I’m simply saying, it is something you may well come across. What made me extra suspicious was the husband’s reaction. He will know that such a procedure is illegal. He’ll be defensive and therefore angry. Some men try to hide what’s happened, others go on the offensive. Of course now we are at war often there isn’t a man around at all – another reason why women resort to such measures.’

‘So was that what was wrong with the woman? Not flu?’

Gwen shrugged. ‘I can’t say. Even if I’d seen her, I might not have been able to tell. Plenty of women wouldn’t admit it, even more so to anyone in a position of authority. They’re caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I’m telling you this so that you bear it in mind in future. You don’t go wading in reading them the riot act; you act as fast as you safely can because, as you know, if left untreated then septicaemia can prove fatal.’

Ruby gasped.

‘And it sounds as if that’s what you did, no matter what underlying reason lay behind her symptoms,’ Gwen assured her. ‘Even if you’d known for sure that the poor woman had tried to give herself an abortion, you wouldn’t have acted any differently. You’ve given her the best possible chance of recovery. Just keep this in mind – not urinating for a long time, maybe a day in the case of an adult, can be a sign of blood poisoning. So it doesn’t hurt to ask that question.’

‘I shan’t forget,’ Ruby said.

‘No, I dare say you won’t,’ Gwen replied wryly. ‘Tell you what. You have acted above and beyond tonight, and that family has every reason to feel grateful. Why don’t you have a half-day off in recompense? Perhaps you’d like to see your own family? This won’t happen every time, I am compelled to warn you.’

Ruby’s eyes widened. ‘Really? That’s kind of you!’

Gwen made as if to rise. ‘Really. Make the most of it – when we are busier you won’t have the chance. What do you say?’

Ruby smiled, for the first time since she had knocked on the grim front door in Moses Street. ‘Yes. Oh, yes please.’

When Ruby approached the Lyons’ Corner House on the Strand she was buoyant, hopeful that this meeting would mark a change. Even though she had been so afraid at the incident in Moses Street, the conversation with Gwen had done her a world of good. Despite not knowing the full story of the poor family, she had done the right thing. Whatever had led to the woman’s symptoms, she had ensured she was safely taken to hospital, which would be the best place for her.

Surely her mother and sister would notice the difference in her. She consciously put her shoulders back and drew herself up to her full five feet four. Her hair was neatly pulled away from her face in a band and she wore her one good winter jacket, as a change from her nurse’s cloak. Edith had noticed her on the way out from the home on Victory Walk, and had stopped to lend her a scarf. ‘This colour suits you and goes with the jacket,’ she’d observed, tucking the pale blue length of wool around the other nurse’s neck. ‘We don’t want you to get cold up there in the West End.’

So Ruby had another reason to feel proud: not only did her deputy supervisor trust her enough to share the warning about botched abortions, but one of the most experienced nurses had shown her friendship. This move to Hackney was the best thing she’d ever done.

The good mood lasted about two minutes. That was how long it took Beryl to get into full flow, casting aspersions left and right, while their mother sat and nodded. Ruby took the lead, boldly ordering teacakes for all of them from the smartly uniformed waitress, and that set Beryl off. Had she forgotten how tasty their mother’s cakes were, and did she think they had money to waste eating out?

‘I thought that’s why we came here,’ Ruby objected.

‘We could have just had a cuppa and saved our pennies. You know Ma doesn’t like the West End at the best of times,’ Beryl snapped. ‘I won’t make a show of myself changing our order but, honestly, you should have asked first, Ruby. Looks as if you’re getting above yourself already.’

Ruby had had to grip hard on her teaspoon to stop herself from screaming.

‘We’ve managed all right without you since you left, thank you for asking,’ her sister rattled on relentlessly. ‘Never mind that Ma’s sciatica has been playing up, isn’t that right, Ma? And we couldn’t get hold of no wintergreen. Of course we used to rely on you for that, Ruby, but you never thought of us when you made your decision to go, did you?’

The unfairness of that took Ruby’s breath away.

‘Sorry to hear that,’ she managed to mutter. She didn’t wish her mother any pain, of course she didn’t, but to blame her for it was a step too far.

Her mother nodded tremulously. ‘I’m all right really, dear. Don’t you worry about me.’ She gave a small sniff. ‘Don’t make the girl feel bad, Beryl.’

Beryl huffed. ‘I’m just letting her know the state of affairs. Don’t imagine you can swan off across town and forget all about us, Ruby.’

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Ruby protested, thinking that chance would be a fine thing. The next time she got a day off she would take herself to the cinema and not waste it being told off for something she could not control.

‘Your trouble is, you don’t know what’s what.’ Beryl was well under way now on her favourite complaint.

Ruby sat back as the teacakes arrived and let her get on with it. There was no point in trying to stop her. Finally she would come to a halt, if only so she could eat her teacake. Beryl might protest that they were an extravagance, but she would soon demolish hers with great speed. Sure enough, having complained for five solid minutes, she set to swallowing her cake in record time. Their mother was still finishing her final crumbs.

‘I’ll pay, it’s my treat,’ Ruby said into the brief gap of silence.

‘Oh, thank you, dear,’ said her mother, surprised and pleased.

Beryl scowled. ‘I’m amazed they’re paying you enough. Don’t go thinking we’ll be so grateful that you can ask for favours in future.’

‘That isn’t why I offered,’ Ruby retorted, stung. ‘I thought you might like it, that’s all.’ The final crumbs of her cake tasted like dust in her mouth. Her little treat had been spoiled. What had she expected, really? In all honesty, she should have known better.

‘Well, we’d best be getting back,’ Beryl asserted. ‘Get you back to where you belong, eh, Ma? Away from all this noise and kerfuffle.’ She glared at Ruby. ‘Next time, see if you can’t get yourself over to Hammersmith.’

Ruby nodded dumbly. She certainly wouldn’t be inviting them to Dalston. She wanted to keep that all to herself – somewhere that people valued her and didn’t think she was a waste of space.

As she sat on the bus, slowly making its way back to the east of the city and trying to avoid the potholes, she felt that her wonderful sensation of happy confidence had vanished, gone up in smoke like the toasted edges of the teacake. Was it true that she didn’t know what was what? How could Beryl blame her for her lack of worldly experience, when she and their mother had gone to great lengths to prevent her getting any?

Recognising the big crossroads, she stood up and prepared to get off, edging down the aisle of the bus between boxes and shopping bags. She gritted her teeth. She couldn’t pretend to be worldly wise, but at least she was now mixing with people who were, and who might teach her how to get on in life. She fingered the warm scarf. At least some of her new colleagues believed in her. That was a start.

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