Free Family of Women by Annie Murray Page B

blouse and dressed her like a child.
    ‘I’m still losing,’ Violet gasped miserably, as more warm liquid seeped out down her legs. Another pain came then, sudden and violent as a crack of thunder.
    ‘Oh God!’ She clung to him groaning until it passed. ‘The babby must be coming. What do we do?’
    ‘I’d better go and get the midwife.’ She could hear him trying not to panic and it made her feel stronger. ‘Will you be all right?’
    ‘Course I will. But be quick!’
    Harry tore down the street like a madman and soon she heard him coming back and bounding noisily up the stairs.
    ‘You all right?’ he panted.
    She was kneeling, recovering from a fresh bout of pain and nodded at him, trying to smile.
    ‘Mrs Barker’s coming. She said to get the kettle on . . . Back in a tick.’ And he fled downstairs again, tripping on the top step and having to right himself as he went down, stumbling and swearing. Violet managed a smile at this befoighter g a befoightre the pain took her in its grip again.
    ‘Am I having the babby?’ she asked when Mrs Barker, a kind, middle-aged woman, appeared upstairs.
    ‘Looks like it, dear.’ She patted Violet’s hand. ‘Now don’t you worry. I’ve seen hundreds of babbies into the world. This one’s coming a bit early, but you’ll be right as rain.’
    The night passed in a swirl of agony. Violet lay on the mattress, which Mrs Barker covered with newspaper and then with an old sheet over the top. Violet kept hearing the paper crackling as she moved, and in between the roaring pain she was aware of Harry’s voice as he ran for the things Mrs Barker requested.
    As dawn broke she was becoming completely exhausted and the pain reached the point where it was unbearable, and soon the baby was born, cracking her open, then slithering into Mrs Barker’s hands. There was a silence, then a tiny snuffling noise. Despite her exhaustion Violet was alert with a mother’s need to hear a cry, to know it was all right.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ She wanted someone to comfort her, to say things were all right.
    Mrs Barker looked up, immediately trying to hide her worry. ‘You’ve had a boy. He’s beautiful, but he’s a tiny little thing. We’ll have to do our best to keep him warm. Let’s see if he’ll take any milk. You just sit up a bit, dear.’
    She brought the tiny scrap of a child to Violet, wrapped up but not yet washed. Violet saw a minute face, the skin yellow, eyes tightly closed and rimed with white, the whole tiny creature pulsating like a little bird. She was frightened of him, he was so small, yet her whole being flooded with protective feelings. A little boy – my little boy!
    ‘Hello, babby.’ She heard the soft tenderness in her own voice.
    ‘See if he’ll suckle,’ Mrs Barker ordered.
    Without any ado she pulled up Violet’s vest and began to massage her nipple.
    ‘Put his mouth to you. They know what to do.’
    But the little one didn’t know what to do. His mouth didn’t move when Violet pressed it to her breast and his eyes didn’t open.
    ‘You can do it,’ she whispered.
    But there was no response.
    ‘Hand him to me,’ Mrs Barker ordered. I’ll wrap him up well and we’ll get the fire going downstairs. It’s a bitter night. We’ll keep him warm till he’s ready and you can get yourself a bit of shut-eye.’
    Violet reluctantly handed the baby over. In a minute Mrs Barker was back.
    ‘That husband of yours has built up a good fire – he’s ever so good with him, I’ll say that. Sitting holding him, he is.’
    Violet smiled wanly. She was so exhausted, her pale hair plastered to her head. Mrs Barker clean.
    But the next thing she knew, the room was filled with hard winter sunshine. Her body felt bruised and scoured out, a sodden rag between her legs and someone had just weighted the bed down, sitting beside her. It was Harry, and there were tears running down his cheeks.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ She jerked upright, heart pounding.
    Harry