24
As she made her way to work one bright Friday morning in June, Maisie reflected how glad she was to be on days this week, for she and Alex would be working together today.
Due to holidays, they had both been assigned to the morning clinic.
Even better, there was an Orpheus dance tonight.
Alex was on duty until seven, but had said he intended to change at the hospital then head straight over to the York Street ballroom.
As she walked towards the hospital it was hard to avoid the headlines in the early newspapers, for they screamed from every seller’s poster stand on every corner. The Germans had marched through Belgium, Holland, and Luxembourg, and were expected to take Paris any day now.
Far from being nearly over, the war was becoming worse by the day.
At work they now had regular meetings to discuss supplies, contingencies, and emergency plans.
The range of food in the canteen had decreased, and Maisie had begun to see signs of hunger in some of the women she cared for.
Unemployment in the west of the city had risen, as people had less money to pay for luxury items like damask tablecloths, and so many of the mills had reduced the hours for their workers.
Some mills, though, were supporting the war effort and had shifted to manufacturing fabric for uniforms, tents, and what was being called Aero Linen – a fortified fabric used in military aircraft.
Protestant communities were not suffering as much, for there were new jobs in the shipyards and the aircraft companies – well-paid jobs that didn’t go to Catholics.
And still the babies came. The staff at the Royal and on the district had noticed a new pattern – a small but noticeable spike in pregnant women who were young and unmarried.
War babies they were, with their fathers away fighting – preventing the hasty weddings that would often take place in these situations.
One young woman had reported she and her boyfriend were to be married by proxy – something Maisie had never heard of, but which seemed to involve each of them saying their vows before legal witnesses in entirely separate countries.
And so, when Miss Maggie-Ann Boyd, aged seventeen and heavily pregnant, appeared in the clinic accompanied by her disapproving mother, Maisie immediately wondered if this was another such case.
‘She’s up the stick, Doctor,’ the girl’s mother declared bluntly to Alex.
She had insisted on accompanying her daughter into the clinic room.
‘Won’t tell me nahin’. Took me weeks to get her to come here.
The GP wrote the letter to get us into the Royal for free cos she wouldn’t talk to him either, so she wouldn’t. ’
‘I see. Hello, Maggie-Ann.’
‘Hello.’ Maggie-Ann was pale, her hands twisting a handkerchief in her lap, and her expression one of terror.
Abruptly, Maisie was reminded of another woman – Mrs Lennon – someone who still appeared in her thoughts most days, much as she tried to rid herself of them.
The situation was different, of course, but Maggie-Ann’s distress today was equally marked.
Alex was gently questioning the girl, who was giving short answers, her head bowed and her shoulders tense. No, she couldn’t remember when she last had a period. When he asked her how far on she thought she was, she stiffened and didn’t speak.
‘See?’ said her mother. She elbowed her daughter. ‘Tell the doctor, Maggie-Ann.’
This, Maisie knew was now putting Maggie-Ann under severe pressure. A doctor, her own mother, and a watching midwife . . . The girl opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Alex glanced at Maisie, and she allowed him to see she was troubled. He turned back to the women. ‘Mrs Boyd,’ he said decisively, ‘could I possibly speak with you privately? There’s an empty room next door.’ Immediately, Maisie knew what Alex was thinking.
Mrs Boyd’s eyes narrowed, and she threw a suspicious glance in Maisie’s direction. Maisie remained immobile, standing by the wall, her expression neutral. I am no threat, she was thinking hard towards Mrs Boyd.
‘All right.’ She huffed out of the room with Alex, and Maisie saw the girl exhale raggedly.
‘It’s all right, Maggie-Ann,’ she said gently. ‘I know Dr Lowe introduced me as Midwife Canavan, but my name’s Maisie. My whole family has names beginning with M, but we don’t have a Maggie-Ann. It’s a great name.’
‘I always liked it,’ said the girl. She shook her head then, agitation showing on her face. ‘My ma made me come here.’
‘Did you not want to come?’ Maisie slid into the chair recently vacated by Alex, hoping he could stall the mother for as long as possible.
‘No. I mean, I suppose I’ll need a doctor, but I—’ Her face crumpled. ‘I just want this not to be happening!’
Maisie gave her a handful of clean tissues. ‘It must be really hard. But I’m here to help you.’
‘I don’t wanna have a baby!’ It was almost a wail.
‘I know. It’s hard.’ Maisie took a breath. ‘Is there anyone who can support you? Your boyfriend?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’ She put her head in her hands, her words muffled. ‘Oh this is a nightmare!’
‘What happened, Maggie-Ann?’ Maisie’s tone was gentle.
Maggie-Ann looked at her, as if considering whether it was safe to talk. Maisie held her breath and held the girl’s gaze, trying to signal compassion and care. I won’t judge you, she was thinking.
‘We . . .’ She took a breath. ‘We were all out for the New Year – me and my friends. There was these sailors from somewhere foreign. Good-luckin’ lads, you know? They were only here for a day or two.’
‘Aye.’ Maisie was forming a fair idea. ‘And you paired up with one of them?’
‘I did, aye. Marcus, he said his name was.’
‘And you did things with him?’ Maisie kept her tone gentle, but inwardly, she was confused. New Year was only six months ago. Maggie-Ann’s swollen abdomen suggested she was further on.
‘I didn’t want to, I swear!’ Tears were streaming down her face. ‘I only wanted some kisses, but he – he took me further down the alleyway and he – I said no but he—’ She dissolved into sobs and Maisie put her arms around her.
‘It’s all right, Maggie-Ann. It will be all right, I promise.’ How to fulfil that promise, she had no idea. She only knew that what this poor girl had gone through was horrific, and that she needed compassion and care.
Alex still hadn’t returned, for which Maisie was grateful, for she needed every second of this time with Maggie-Ann. ‘Have you ever had another boyfriend, Maggie-Ann?’ she asked once the girl was ready to talk again.
Maggie-Ann shook her head. ‘I’ve kissed a few boys after dances, you know?’ Maisie did know. Yet she still couldn’t account for the dates being wrong.
‘And it was definitely the New Year when this happened?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘It helps us to work out how far along you are.’
‘Oh, what’s going to happen to me?’ She punched her abdomen, and Maisie gasped. ‘I wish it would go away. I never wanted any of this! Every time I see my stupid stomach, it reminds me of what he did, and I wish I could die!’
‘Ah, Maggie-Ann, I’m so sorry!’ She hugged the girl again.
‘Can you get rid of it for me? I know it can be done. Please!’
Maisie kept her face neutral. ‘We need to talk to Dr Lowe and your mammy about it all. You know that, don’t you?’
‘I suppose.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Could you tell them? My ma will go mad, so she will.’
Maisie spoke firmly. ‘Maggie-Ann, listen to me. This is not your fault. None of it is your fault. Do you hear me?’
The girl nodded, something like hope in her eyes, and Maisie rose. ‘Right. I’ll ask them to come back in.’
‘Tell them first,’ Maggie-Ann pleaded. ‘I’m begging you, Maisie. My poor ma – I can’t tell her. I can’t!’
‘All right, I will. Will you be all right here for a few minutes?’
She nodded, so Maisie went quickly to the next room, where Alex was listening sympathetically to a distraught Mrs Boyd.
They both looked up when she entered, and Alex bade her sit. ‘How is she?’
‘She’s upset, but she told me what happened.’ She turned to Mrs Boyd. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Boyd. I hate to have to tell you this, but your daughter is pregnant as the result of being forced.’ Her stomach felt slightly sick, and her heart went out to Mrs Boyd. No mother should have to hear such news.
‘Ah no, not that!’ Mrs Boyd put a hand to her mouth. After a moment, she added, ‘I did wonder, for our Maggie-Ann was never one to be running about with boys. She only started going to dances this past year or so.’ She sent Maisie a sharp glance. ‘Who was it? Who done this to her?’
‘A sailor. He said his name was Marcus.’
‘A sailor. A bloody sailor.’ Her mouth twisted.
‘He’ll be long gone, and my Maggie-Ann is left with the consequences of his evil.
’ She turned to Alex. ‘Can you get rid of it? I’m not having my Maggie-Ann’s life ruined by some sailor that took what he wanted and run, and I know how bad she is with her nerves over this.
’ Her hands were shaking, Maisie saw, and her face pale.
Shock. Both women were going through shock, and it was her job to make sure it didn’t turn into serious medical shock.
‘I’ll get some tea.’
‘Good idea.’ Alex’s eyes held gratitude. ‘We’ll go back in to Maggie-Ann.’
Leaving them to it, Maisie went to the office and made two cups, standing with both hands on the bench as she waited for the electric kettle to boil.
This is desprit. Once the tea was ready she made for the original clinic room, bracing herself emotionally.
As planned, Alex and Mrs Boyd had returned there, and the two women were currently hugging and crying.
That would be the start of Maggie-Ann’s healing, Maisie knew – although the pregnancy complicated matters.
Giving birth to her attacker’s child would be a nightmare for poor Maggie-Ann.