Free The Midwife's Tale by Sam Thomas Page B

lost.”
    “Where I grew up, we made do with just the one church.” She smiled, and I laughed again, relieved that she had recovered from the previous day’s fright. Martha thought for a moment and then became serious. “Hannah said that you had children,” she said.
    Her directness took me unawares, and I swallowed hard before answering. “I had two children, both from Phineas. I had a baby boy named Michael. He was born just after I buried Phineas. He died soon after.”
    “And the picture in the hall—is that your daughter?”
    I knew the question was coming, but a second a wave of sadness rose up in my breast and I fought to hold back my tears. “That is Bridget. We called her Birdy. She died too.” I started to say more but worried that my voice would break. A gentlewoman could hardly be seen sobbing in the middle of a city street.
    Martha stopped and turned toward me, taking my hands. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It is a terrible burden.”
    “The Lord has His plans,” I said. “It is not our place to question His will.”
    To my surprise, a bark of laughter escaped Martha’s lips. “Begging your pardon, but that is so much shit,” she said. “The Lord has His plans? My God, what nonsense!”
    “Martha!” I cried, aghast at her blasphemy.
    “I’m sorry, my lady, but I’ve seen many things in this world, and God’s plan is not among them. God wanted your baby to die? That is His plan? If so…” Her voice trailed off, leaving even more profane thoughts unsaid. I cannot say that I hadn’t had similar ideas and I wondered how Martha had come to such awful conclusions. I knew I should pursue the matter and convince her of God’s goodness, but with Birdy’s death still hanging in the air, I could not do so. Martha rescued us from the silence. “Is that why you became a midwife?” she asked. “Because of your son?”
    “Lord, no,” I said. “It takes longer than that to learn the business. I had helped deliver a few women before I came to York, and Phineas’s mother took me on as her deputy when I arrived. When she died, many of her patients came to me.” I paused for a moment, considering her question. “But it is true that I have taken on more clients since Birdy died. The house is so quiet. I’d rather be among my gossips.”
    We turned onto the narrow street where Daniel Goodwin had his shop. He greeted us when we entered, surprised that I would come to see him in person. I saw that his apron was torn in places and his trousers were fraying. He was perhaps fifty years old, so the lines on his face were not out of place, but his eyes had a haunted expression more common in beggars than shopkeepers. Clearly the siege had not been good for business. He was located near the Monk Bar and for years had profited from the traffic passing through that gate, but with the siege, that traffic had stopped. At the moment, he was working to repair a laborer’s boot, but the bare shelves behind him announced that he would soon be done for the day. It would be a lean month unless the siege ended soon.
    “My lady,” he said. “It is an honor. Do you require my services?”
    “Mr. Goodwin,” I replied. “It is good to see you. No business at the moment. I need to speak to your wife.” He could not hide his disappointment. I knew he would not accept charity, so I resolved to send Hannah back that afternoon with some of our older shoes and an order for a new pair.
    “Of course,” he said. “Margaret,” he called out. “Lady Hodgson is here, and would like to speak to you.” I heard an exclamation and then the clatter of footsteps as she hurried down the stairs and into the shop.
    “Lady Hodgson, how are you?” she asked. She was a bit younger than her husband, but her life had been no easier. Her clothes were fading from repeated washing and her plain coif had been mended in many places, but her eyes showed none of the desperation I saw in Daniel’s. While I had come to York after