Free Hearts of Gold by Catrin Collier

‘Don’t worry, Maisie,’ she murmured, ‘you’ll be fine. A few moments and it will all be over.’
    Maisie clawed at the mask with her free hand. To Bethan’s embarrassment the doctor placed his hand firmly over hers, then slowly, drop by drop, he poured the chloroform. Maisie’s eyes clouded, and her hands fell limply on to the bed. Nurse Williams moved quickly. She hauled back the sheet and strapped Maisie’s legs into the stirrups while the doctor scrubbed his hands and picked up the forceps.
    ‘This is going to be tricky. I’d be grateful if you could try to hold the patient still.’
    Bethan clamped her hands on Maisie’s shoulders. She looked down and watched as the doctor extracted one tiny wrinkled leg, then another. An interminable wait followed during which she found it difficult to breathe. The cap covering the doctor’s forehead moistened with sweat despite the chill in the room.
    Maisie moaned, a low bestial cry, as he worked frantically to free the tiny body imprisoned within her. Then suddenly, without any further drama, he lifted his hands. In them was the small, waxy, silent white form of a baby.
    ‘Nurse?’ he demanded urgently.
    Nurse Williams took the child, leaving him free to cut the cord. The moment he severed it, she forced her fingers into the baby’s mouth, and turned it upside down. Nothing! The doctor tore the gloves from his hands and held the chid by its heels, hitting it lightly on the back with his free hand.
    A thin, weak wail filled the room. Bethan breathed again. She’d assisted at too many stillbirths to take life for granted.
    ‘It’s a girl.’ The doctor wrapped her gently in the coarse towel that Nurse Williams handed him. ‘A little small, but all there,’ he announced cheerfully.
    ‘I’ll take her to the nursery,’ the staff nurse volunteered.
    ‘And when you’ve deposited her there, have a well-earned rest. Nurse Powell and I can wrap up here.’
    ‘Can you?’ the staff nurse asked eagerly. She hadn’t had a break since she’d entered the ward at six-thirty, and the thought of putting her feet up, even for ten minutes, seemed like heaven.
    ‘Of course we can, and Nurse?’
    ‘Yes, Doctor?’ She hesitated in the doorway.
    ‘Thank you for your help.’
    The staff nurse positively purred at the unaccustomed praise.
    Slightly embarrassed Bethan turned her attention to Maisie. Dr John pulled down his mask. When Bethan glanced up, he was leaning against the wall, his head in his hands. He saw her looking at him and shook his head.
    ‘I hate the touch and go ones,’ he said drily. ‘Six years as a medical student and I’m still not used to death.’
    ‘Then you’ve only just qualified?’ Bethan asked, without stopping to think that she was talking to a doctor.
    ‘Last summer. This is my first job. I’m assisting my father.’
    ‘Doctor John?’ she blurted out.
    ‘You’ve worked out the family connection?’
    She tried, and failed, to think of a witty retort. She’d never been one for spontaneous repartee, not like Laura.
    Maisie moaned again.
    He moved over to the bed and checked her pulse. ‘The lady’s waking up. Let’s hope there’ll be no more complications.’
    The next hour was a busy one, and Bethan learned that young Dr John was nothing if not thorough. He didn’t leave the ward until Maisie had regained consciousness, and she still had to wash, change and make Maisie as comfortable as a patient who has just given birth can be made.
    Even awake, the girl seemed to be in a stupor. Bethan chatted as she worked telling her that she had a lovely little girl, and that she’d be seeing her soon, but she failed to elicit a response. Undeterred, she persisted talking about the child.
    ‘She’s small but all right, and with care, she won’t be small for long.’
    ‘Am I going back to the unmarrieds ward?’ Maisie whispered finally.
    ‘Not just yet,’ Bethan replied calmly. ‘You’ll be with us for at least ten days. I’ll be