Free Farewell To The East End by Jennifer Worth Page A

again … aaah …’
    Another contraction came within seconds of the last.
    ‘This is it,’ she gasped, holding her breath.
    ‘Yes it is. Now you have to turn over quickly.’ Cynthia beckoned to the grandmother. ‘Bring me those clean towels. Can we get this dirty maternity pad out of the way and put the towels under her, so that there is a clean surface for the baby to be born onto?’
    They changed the linen, but it was not so easy to contain the soot. Their hands were filthy, and touching anything made matters worse. Cynthia turned the pillow over, so that there was a clean surface on which Janet could lay her head, but even that soon got dirty as her hair streaked across it. Her grandmother tried washing Janet’s forehead in cold water, which helped a little.
    The delivery was not complicated, but childbirth is sometimes a gory business and blood and amniotic fluid can get everywhere. Mixed with soot, the mess was quite indescribable. The baby, a little girl, wet and sticky, was covered in black slime, and clumps of soot. With swabs and clean water Cynthia washed it away and held the baby upside down in order to drain mucus from her throat (this procedure was thought to be helpful in those days, and we were taught to do it). The baby screamed lustily. Cynthia looked at her sterile delivery tray in despair. At this stage she would normally have cut the cord, but the scissors, clamps, swabs and sterile water were filthy.
    At that moment she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and the sound of Sister Evangelina’s voice grumbling.
    ‘What is all this about needing a new delivery bag? Calling me out to bring one! I’ve had to cycle half a mile to bring it. The impertinence! I suppose the nurse messed up the first one. These young midwives! Can’t be trusted to do anything properly.’
    The door opened. Sister Evangelina entered, stared at the scene in disbelief, and exclaimed ‘What the devil have you been up to?’ Then she laughed. She laughed so much it shook the house. She fell against the door frame holding her stomach, then sat down on a chair and threw her head back, knocking her wimple askew.
    Sister Evangelina was a large and impressive lady. She was what is usually described as a ‘rough diamond’. Born into a large family in the slums of Reading at the turn of the last century, she had grown up in desperate poverty. The First World War offered her the chance of escape from the treadmill of inherited penury. She had left school at twelve to work in a biscuit factory and at the age of fifteen had gone to work in a munitions factory. Later she had moved to a military hospital, where she trained as a nurse, and where the one romance of her life had occurred, though she never spoke of it. She joined the Sisters of St Raymund Nonnatus, becoming fully professed as a nursing nun, and had worked in Poplar for thirty years, including during the Blitz. She was a great favourite of the people of Poplar, largely because of her down-to-earth, no-nonsense approach to their ailments, her rough-and-ready ways and her crude language. Of course, she had a completely different vocabulary and use of language within the convent. In fact, with us she could be extremely dour and grumpy, and not easily given to laughter. Yet on this occasion she could not stop. Her face, which was red and mottled at the best of times, turned a deep crimson, and her nose shone like a beacon. She slapped her hand on the mantelshelf to steady herself and took out a giant-sized handkerchief with which to wipe her streaming eyes and nose. ‘Ooh, I’m peeing me drawers. You don’t know what you look like, you three – you’ve made me pee me drawers, you have.’ And off she went into paroxysms of laughter again.
    Sister Evangelina also enjoyed earthy vulgarity. In fact basic bodily functions were an endless source of amusement to her. This predilection for lavatorial humour was something she shared only with her Cockney patients. Within the