Chapter 16 #2
A young boy, perhaps nine or ten, with smudged features and a dirty cap in his hands, stood on the step. His coat had holes in the elbows, and his shoes looked three sizes too large. Newspaper peeked out of the ankle of the shoes.
“What message?”
He scrunched up his face to help recall. “The lady doctor said she needs help with a delivery.”
Mark felt Ellen come up behind him. He edged to the side to better share the doorway with her.
“Where?”
“The green building on the passageway behind the old factory. Third floor.” He eyed Mark, noticing the gold pocket watch chain and his polished leather shoes, no doubt. “I can take ye for a price.”
Mark dug in his pockets for a shilling. “This one’s for the message. A second for when you take us there.” He turned to Ellen. “I assume you plan on going?”
“Of course.” Ellen was already hurrying to put on her winter clothes.
“There’s no way I’m letting you out alone, this late, when that man is probably still drunk as sin and angry as hell.” Mark reached for his hat off the nearby rack.
In a few moments, all three headed down the steps to find a cab. Mark called back to Gaye, who watched with disappointment, “Please tell Cook we’re sorry! And you are all welcome to the dishes tonight so they don’t spoil.”
The butler harrumphed again as he shut the door.
“Crikey.” The boy’s eyes widened as they climbed into the cab. “I ain’t never ridden one of these before. Seen plenty. Never ridden in one myself.”
The cab took them as far as it could on cobblestone paths, and then they walked the rest of the way in alleys too narrow for anything but foot traffic.
The lad led them confidently, pointing out neighborhood landmarks along the way, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.
They walked up the flights of stairs to a rough, dirty tenement building that smelled strongly of mold.
Mark eyed the surroundings dubiously. Ellen, probably much more familiar with poverty, knocked on the door and entered. Mark shuffled in after her.
The flat was small and two-roomed. In the front room was a tiny stove in a corner, one stool with a broken leg, a table with a dingy, stained tablecloth, and children’s toys scattered around the room.
All light came from the open stove and the single candle sitting on the table.
Through the door, the light of a paraffin lamp illuminated a small bedroom with cracked plaster walls.
He stepped into the home, following Ellen, and nearly tripped over a child sitting on the floor with wide eyes.
“Hello,” he said.
The child stared silently.
“Amelia?” Ellen had already taken off her cloak, gloves, and scarf and dropped them on the table as she moved to the bedroom. “Is it an early delivery?”
Mark edged past the child, nearly tripped over three more, and made it to the doorway.
The bedroom was small enough the lamplight filled every corner, and the single bed took up most of the space.
Amelia, whom Mark was embarrassed to see, was there, sleeves rolled up to her elbows and heavy white apron on.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia was saying to Ellen as Ellen found a bottle of antiseptic and doused her hands. “I know this wasn’t a good day for you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Ellen’s body blocked Mark from seeing much, but he assumed the woman in labor was lying on the bed. “Goodness, you look ready to pop!”
The woman groaned. “Been in labor for hours.” Accusation colored her tone. “The doctor here told me each labor goes quicker than the last.”
“Well, I suppose that’s what you get for having me attend your delivery rather than finding a midwife at a hospital,” Amelia said cheerfully. She glanced up and saw Mark. “Why don’t you watch the children?” And she shut the door in his face.
Mark blushed, realizing he was where men never dared to go. He looked back at the four children all staring at him. “Where’s your father?”
“Out for a bite,” the oldest said. “He says he gets too worried to stay here and do nothing. He’ll be back before midnight probably.”
“Ah.” Mark looked around the room. What am I doing here? Why did I think it would be a good idea to attend a labor? He pointed to the carved wooden horse on the ground. “I like your toy.” Inwardly, he winced. Was that all he had?
“Are you the doctor’s friend, too?” The second child, of indeterminable gender, stuck a finger in their mouth.
He nodded.
“I ain’t never seen a man nurse before.” The oldest scowled at him.
“I’m not a nurse.”
“Men are doctors, silly. Women are nurses.” The second largest slapped her brother’s shoulder.
“Doctor Amelia is a woman,” Mark pointed out.
“So was the nurse that was here earlier.” The older brother glared at his younger siblings.
Through bits and pieces, Mark learned after a few hours of their mother in labor, their father went and found Amelia.
Because she was operating the dispensary alone, she brought her friend, the off-duty nurse from the workhouse.
They’d worked with the woman in labor for a few hours together, until the nurse had to return for her shift at St. Pancras.
When Amelia had been left alone, she had the father send a message for Ellen.
Usually families farmed their children out to neighbors at times like this, or family members showed up to cook and clean.
But the family was new, fresh from Surrey, as the father had gotten a job as a carpenter’s assistant.
The wife’s mother wasn’t due to visit for another three days.
The woman in the back let out a strangled moan of pain.
The littlest child’s face paled and eyes widened.
Mark racked his brain trying to think of anything to keep their mind off their mother’s agony.
Their terror reminded him of the ship’s boys, huddled together as they experienced their first storm on the open ocean.
His heart twisted. “Do you like stories?”
All four nodded.
“Then I’ll tell you a story.” Mark sat on the ground, cross-legged. “Once upon a time, there were twelve gods in ancient Greece.”
“That’s not true, there’s only one God,” the second-born declared piously.
Mark nodded. “Yes, but this is a story. A pretend story about something that could have happened a long, long time ago.”
“Shhh.” The third child scooted closer to Mark, eyes wide and eager.
“So, uh, these gods had different jobs. The head god, Zeus, was in charge of the sky and lightning. His brother Poseidon was in charge of the sea. And the third brother, Hades, was in charge of the dead.” Mark thought through all the myths he knew.
Suddenly they seemed very gory and inappropriate for children.
But all children loved adventure. So he told them the story of Herakles’ impossible tasks.
Rapt, the children leaned into him, gobbling up every word.
Mark grinned at them, surprised by how delighted he was at sharing his favorite myths with children. I should do this more often. When he finished with Herakles, they begged for another.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked. A wail from the room broke into his words.
“Right,” he said, and launched into a sanitized version of Jason and the Argonauts.
Words hadn’t come this easily in months, perhaps years.
This felt right. Introducing Greek mythology to children, showing little minds how exciting and adventurous the world could be, felt so much better than debating over the right adjective for a day and a half.
At some point their father came back. He entered the home with a bottle of beer and treats for the children. He gave Mark a quizzical look, so Mark stood and shook his hand, introducing himself. Mr. Carlson nodded, but his main focus was behind the closed door.
Mark continued talking until the littlest two fell asleep. One lay in the eldest’s lap, the other had curled up against Mark’s legs and lay on the floor with a thumb in her mouth. The older two kept rubbing their eyes, but each sound that drifted through the bedroom door woke them up again.
“It’s taking a real long time,” one said.
“Sometimes it takes a long time,” Mark replied, realizing he knew very, very little about what was normal.
“It didn’t take this long last time,” the eldest said.
“I’m sure it’ll be soon now.”
The door opened. The husband jerked upright from his stool, where he’d been staring moodily through the grate and into the fire. Amelia stuck her head out and looked at him. “Your wife would like some water. Can you bring her some?”
He shot to his feet, nodding.
Mark tried to distract the anxious children by launching into the beginning of the Iliad, but even his eyes watched their father pour water from a pitcher into a cheap tin cup with shaking fingers, then gird his loins and enter the bedroom.
Mark rubbed his weary eyes and looked at his pocket watch. It was one in the morning. They’d been here for five hours.
The door opened again, and this time both Ellen and Amelia framed the doorway.
Amelia placed a hand on Ellen’s back and gently pushed her into the room.
“Ellen needs a rest,” she said cheerfully.
Her eyes were growing bloodshot and her face paled with exhaustion, but somehow her voice was still cheerful.
“Er,” Mark began, because something didn’t seem right. Ellen drifted toward him, more tired than Amelia.
“Mark, I need help.” Amelia looked at him the way his old captain surveyed the ship’s crew.
He got to his feet. “I can go knock on a few doors and see if there’s any other women awake—”
A screech came from behind Amelia. “Come on.”
Mark froze. “Excuse me?”
She beckoned. “I need someone to hand me rags and blankets and forceps.”
“F-f-forceps?” Surely Mark misunderstood. “I’m a man.”
Amelia sighed. “I know men are weaklings when it comes to blood and pain, but you’re the best I’ve got.”
“Doctor!” The husband’s voice was low and urgent.
Amelia whirled and hurried back into the room.