The Miner’s Girl (24 page)

‘I knew you would understand,' he said and dropped a kiss on his wife's head. ‘Well, I'll be off. Don't stay out sketching if the weather turns too cold, dear.'

The doctor decided to take the trap into Eden Hope, though it wasn't far. If there was time he wanted to go into Winton later and have a word with Dr Moody about the possibility of approaching the council concerning the open-topped carts that were used to empty the ash closets. If he passed one in the street he was obliged to hold his breath until it passed. Surely they were the perfect instrument for spreading infectious diseases?

As he came around the corner to the top of the rows he was amazed to see Merry walking towards him. She was carrying the boy, Benny who was lying against her, his head on her shoulder. The bandage on her head had been knocked askew somehow and the edge of the livid bruise on her temple could be seen. Dr Macready stopped the cart.

‘Goodness, Mrs Wright, what are you doing? The boy should not be out here, not this late in the afternoon. It's already turning cooler.'

‘I'm going into the town. I'll have to find somewhere to live or I'll have to go to the workhouse,' she said dully. Her head ached and her arms felt as though they were being pulled out of their sockets. Benny's thin little body had felt like no weight at all at first but now, after only a few minutes, it was becoming heavier by the minute.

The doctor got down from his seat on the trap. ‘Give me the boy,' he ordered. ‘And you, get in and sit down before you fall down.' He waited until she had done as she was told, then went on. ‘Now, what's all this about? I didn't expect you to be leaving your husband quite so quickly. Has he been violent again?'

‘Robbie has locked us out,' she said. ‘I have to find somewhere to stay.'

The doctor looked around. Two women were walking along the top of the rows and they slowed as they approached. They gazed open mouthed at Merry and the boy on the trap and Dr Macready standing beside them. The doctor sighed. Goodness knew what tales would be passed around the community now unless he said something. Not that he cared for himself but there was the girl and her son. He beckoned the women over and they came almost at a run, lifting eager inquisitive faces to him.

‘Mrs Wright is suffering from concussion,' he said. ‘I wonder if you could let Mrs Robinson know I have been delayed as I have to take her to Bishop Auckland. I will be back to see the Robinson child as soon as I can.'

That should do it, he thought. Surgery might be late this evening but it couldn't be helped. ‘Gee up,' he called to the pony and cracked the reins, setting off at a steady trot for the town.

He turned into the gates of Oaklands, the workhouse hospital. Merry's heart felt like a great leaden weight in her chest. Weak tears sprang to her eyes; her head throbbed.

‘I don't want to go in, please, Doctor,' she pleaded. ‘They'll take Benny from me and put him in the children's Ward. They might put him in the Children's Home, mightn't they?' The Children's Home on Escombe Road had recently been built and children were no longer kept in the Workhouse.

‘No they won't,' soothed Dr Macready. He gazed at her keenly. Perhaps she really was suffering from concussion, in which case the sooner she was put to bed the better. ‘Give me the boy.' But Merry was clutching Benny desperately and her son was clinging just as hard to her.

‘Look, they won't separate you, not tonight,' said the doctor. ‘I'll see to that. I am on the Board of Guardians.' Not that it did much good, he thought to himself. His
was a lone voice among the rest. ‘Come on, the boy will catch a cold if he's out here much longer.' He held out his arms again and reluctantly Merry handed him over.

‘You promise me?'

‘I do,' said Dr Macready. At least he had enough clout to see they stayed together for the night. ‘I'll take you in now. You will be looked after for the night. Then I'll see you in the morning. Don't worry now, just try to have a good night's sleep.'

They were put to bed in a narrow, cell-like room that Merry knew was meant for someone who was dangerously ill or suffering from an infectious fever. Not that there was any danger, the smell of Lysol was so strong it seemed to burn her nostrils. There was a bed and a baby's cot and Benny was laid in the cot. His thin legs reached to the iron rails at the bottom but he didn't appear to mind; his eyes were closing almost before the blanket was laid over him.

The day had been altogether too much for the bairn, Merry thought as she looked down on him. She lay back on her hard pillow and sighed. She had to make plans for the future, she told herself; she would never sleep until she did. She vowed they wouldn't stay another night in the workhouse even if it were the hospital part of the institution; the shame was too much. Until now she had not met any of the nurses she had worked with in what
seemed another life, but she was aware that it was only a matter of time before she did.

Tomorrow, she thought drowsily, and fell into a deep sleep from which she was only awakened when the nurses began clattering in the adjacent ward with bedpans and washing bowls.

‘Mam? Mam?' Benny was awake too as he sat up in the cot and turned to her in fright. ‘Mam? Where are we, Mam?'

‘It's all right, pet,' she soothed. ‘I'm here. Lie down again and the nurse will bring you a drink in a minute.'

But Benny was not to be reassured so easily. He clambered over the side of the cot and onto her bed, diving under the blanket to cling to her fiercely. She could feel his heart beating rapidly against her ribs and anxiety filled her. He wasn't strong enough for this upheaval, she thought. Dear God, what was she going to do?

The nurse came in and gave them tea and porridge made with water and a drizzle of milk on top. ‘He should be in the cot,' she said disapprovingly. ‘I don't know what Sister will say.' But she made no effort to make him leave his mother's bed and said nothing else. Merry asked what time Dr Macready was expected but the nurse simply shrugged and went out, though not before giving mother and son a strange look.

When the doctor did arrive later in the morning Merry was sitting on the single hard chair in the room with Benny on her knee.

‘I'm sorry I've been so long, Mrs Wright,' he said before turning to Sister who came puffing out of her office. ‘Don't let me disturb you, Sister, I have just come for Mrs Wright and Benny.'

‘If you're taking them you will have to sign them out according to the rules, Dr Macready,' said Sister.

‘Yes, I will see to it. Now I know you're busy, Sister, so don't let me keep you.' He waited until Sister had swept back into her office before turning to Merry. ‘Now, how do you feel today my dear? Sleep well?'

‘I did, thank you, Doctor,' she replied.

‘Then we'll go.'

Go where? Merry thought as they left the ward and walked to where his pony stood patiently waiting. But there was still the throb in her head from the wound and she was happy to let him take over. She trusted the doctor completely.

Jogging along in the trap with Benny sitting between them and a warm rug over their knees, for the weather was cool and overcast for August, she began to feel a little more herself. The air, in spite of the slight smell of coal dust as they passed small collieries on the way, was greatly better than the air in the hospital with its pervasive stink of disinfectant. She breathed deeply of it and her
head began to clear properly for the first time since being knocked unconscious when she fell against the table.

‘Where are you taking me?' she asked as they passed by the miners' rows of Winton Colliery. ‘We can't go back home, not after yesterday.'

‘No, I know,' said Dr Macready. ‘There are a couple of rooms above the surgery which my wife and I thought would be just the thing for you. I was waiting until we got to the surgery to tell you, or rather ask if you agreed.'

‘Agreed?' Merry echoed. She couldn't believe what he was saying. ‘But . . . you don't have to do this for me. I haven't managed to get any work so I won't be able to pay rent.'

‘I am doing it for me, primarily at least,' said the doctor. ‘I want you to help with the practice. You can take messages and help with the patients in the surgery hour, can't you? It would help me enormously if I had someone to help with medicines, apply bandages, that sort of thing. I know you have some knowledge already as you worked on the wards at Oaklands – as for the rest a quick girl like you will soon pick it up. I have a man to collect the panel money from the miners' families. You wouldn't have to do that. The most important is taking messages; you know what can happen when these things are left to Maisie.'

Oh, she did, Merry remembered the day and part of the night she had waited for him to come when Benny
caught diphtheria. She might have lost him besides Alice. A stab of pain went through her at the thought of Alice. Sometimes it caught her unexpectedly and was almost physical in its intensity. She took a deep breath and forced her attention back to Dr Macready.

‘I do,' she said simply.

‘Then you agree? We can talk about wages later.'

Merry felt the tears spring to her eyes; she looked away towards the whirling pitwheel of Winton Colliery, which they happened to be passing as she willed them to stop.

‘You have saved my life, Doctor,' she said and turned back to him. ‘I was at my wits' end. Of course I agree. I'll do my level best for you.'

Dr Macready smiled and turned his attention to the pony as they approached the gates of his house and surgery on the hillside on the outskirts of Eden Hope.

‘It will be the usual nine-day wonder,' said Dr Macready. ‘Don't let it upset you.'

‘No. No, I won't, Doctor,' Merry replied. This was the third day in her new job and it seemed to her that every patient who came in the surgery looked at her as though she was a scarlet woman. The first day when she handed over bottles of cough mixture or horse liniment to treat the crop of miners with bad backs or ‘miners' cough' that were always at the doctor's on Mondays after a heavy weekend, the recipients looked at her sideways as though she had grown a pair of horns.

With the women it was sniffs and curled lips, though one or two gave her a sympathetic or even admiring glance – the ones with bruises of their own who would have liked to do as she had done mainly, or so she thought. Mostly they went away with the comforting
thought that they at least had not been locked out of their own houses by their men.

Apart from the attitude of some of the people, Merry was happy, even beginning to relax. She loved the flat over the surgery. It was sparsely furnished with only a couple of single beds and a chest of drawers in the bedroom, and two old leather armchairs Mrs Macready had sent in from the house, a wooden table and four kitchen chairs in the living room; but it was a delight to Merry. There was a small kitchen with a proper sink and wooden draining board with a cold water tap on the wall over it. There was even a sort of boiler beside the tap that gave out hot water. It was just as well Merry had worked at the hospital or the boiler would have frightened her to death with its hissing and spluttering. As it was she had seen them before on the wards. The best thing of all was the fact that there was a real water closet.

Oh yes, Merry told herself, this was a lovely place to live. Having to answer the door and the telephone and take messages for the doctor was a small price to pay. And when the doctor was called out in the evenings or even during the night she hadn't to go outside at all, just downstairs to the surgery and there was a connecting passage to the house.

Now she stood behind the partition that screened off the dispensary from the surgery, measuring out
the medicinal mixtures from the carboys into smaller bottles and adding water ready for patients. On the other side of the partition a patient was standing up ready to leave.

‘Mrs Wright will give you the liniment,' the doctor said and the man thanked him. Merry picked up a bottle of liniment and went out into the surgery proper. She looked at Jack Suggett, for that was who it was, full in the face as she handed it over. He didn't acknowledge that he even knew her, simply nodded, took the bottle and walked out. Merry followed him to the door.

‘Next for the doctor,' she called and her heart sank as her mother-in-law got up from the form which lined the wall and came towards her. She stood back as Doris swept past her and stood in front of the desk.

‘Please sit down,' said Dr Macready pleasantly. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘You can get rid of that whore for a start,' replied Doris.

The doctor looked up sharply. ‘What did you say?' He rose to his feet and stared disdainfully at her.

‘I said you could get rid of your assistant,' said Doris. Though her eyes flickered in the face of his authority she stood her ground.

Dr Macready gazed at her in silence for a moment and her cheeks turned a beetroot red.

‘She's not fit to live with decent folk,' she said. ‘God only knows who the father of that bastard of hers is.'

Dr Macready did not raise his voice. ‘Is there anything wrong with you?' he asked.

‘I just thought you should know how folk felt, she—'

‘Shut your filthy mouth, woman!' the doctor interrupted her. ‘If you don't get out of my surgery I will call the police.'

‘I have a right—'

‘You have no rights at all here,' he interrupted her again. He rang a small bell that stood on the desk; almost immediately the door to the waiting room opened and a man came in. It was Jim Hawthorne, a miner of about sixty who was now retired through a mining accident that injured his leg. Jim had taken over collecting the fourpence a week the miners paid for their families to be on the panel. The miners themselves were covered by the Union.