Page 18 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘I hadn’t told anybody, but it turns out I needn’t have worried.’

‘Sure the handywomen are great! I’m so jealous, though – I’d love to get out to the home births.’

Peggy grinned. ‘Aye, I can’t wait!’

Maisie turned her mind away from envy. As a handywoman – a lay midwife – Peggy would have been highly experienced at handling births, even before undergoing formal midwifery training. It made total sense that Matron would get her out doing the real work as soon as possible. Maisie’s time would come; she simply had to be patient. A pity I hadn’t trained as a handywoman when I was younger. Ma Kennedy might have trained her, just as she was currently training Áine.

There was no point in dwelling on might-have-beens, though. Gerald. Another might-have-been. If he’d been different. If I’d been different. She shouldn’t go there.Thoughts like that were not only irrelevant but harmful to her peace of mind. Questions to which there would never be answers.

‘How are you getting on in A Ward, anyway?’ she asked brightly. ‘What’s the name of the sister again?’

‘Sister Campbell. She’s a bit daunting, but she’s actually all right, I think. What about yours? Sister Hanna, right? The one who interviewed us with Matron?’

‘Very daunting.’ Deliberately, she matched Peggy’s choice of word. ‘I don’t see that much of her. Midwife Brooks is my real commander, I reckon. She’s very bossy.’

‘Bossy Brooks!’ Peggy frowned. ‘But how can she be? We’re all the same. There are midwives, and sisters, and Matron. That’s it, right?’

‘Nah. I reckon there’s another level. There are midwives and midwives. As newly qualified midwives we’re the lowest of the low. We know so little compared to the midwives who’ve been here a while. Apart from you, of course!’

‘But if we do actually know more than them about something we have to keep our mouths shut,’ Peggy responded, a tinge of bitterness in her tone.

‘I haven’t had that problem yet, but I can imagine!’

Satisfied that they were in complete agreement on these important matters, they returned to their chicken dinner.

* * *

Alex was scheduled to spend the entire afternoon in delivery suite along with Dan, who had been there since early morning. This would be an interesting part of the job, for it was entirely unpredictable. The midwives tended to take the lead with the women in labour, while the doctors were expected to hang around in the staffroom waiting to be called. Nice work! There was always paperwork to be done as well, and Russell had left a folder of forms to be processed by the junior doctors that afternoon.

On night duty there was often the chance of a nap in one of the armchairs – or even a couple of hours rest up in the doctors’ mess. The whole thing, according to Dr Marron who had qualified a year ago, was one of the best parts of the role. ‘Plus you get to know all of the different forms really well. That might not sound important, but it’s so handy after you’ve dealt with a complex case and there’s a load of paperwork. It can be really confusing to start with, so don’t be afraid to ask me anything you’re not sure about.’ He grinned. ‘I’m only a year qualified, so I know exactly what it’s like to be in your shoes!’

He left soon afterwards to check on a couple of patients in the wards, and Alex and Dan chatted amiably as they worked their way through the forms. Some of their conversation focused on the usual stuff – where they’d gone to school (Dan had attended St Malachy’s – the Catholic boarding school on the northern outskirts of Belfast), which parts of their medical training they’d loved or hated, and why they had chosen medicine.

‘Because my da is a GP I was already familiar with the life of a doctor,’ Dan said, his expression thoughtful. ‘I think he’d have supported me if I’d gone for the law or accountancy or any of the other professions my school friends went for though. How about you?’

Alex grimaced. ‘Like I was telling you, my father always assumed I’d work alongside him and take over his manufacturing plant.’

Dan whistled through his teeth. ‘Aye. Tricky.’

‘It was.’ He was ready to share a bit more with his new friend. ‘He went mad when I started talking about doing medicine. Said it was a waste of time, that I was ungrateful . . . all that sort of stuff, you know?’

‘Jaysus, I can only imagine!’

Alex grinned. He liked the way Catholics said things like ‘Jaysus’, which would be absolute sacrilege in his house.

‘Aye,’ he continued. ‘He came round in the end, though, and funded my medical training.’

‘Fair play to him.’

‘You’re right there.’ Dan was right. Father had funded him, despite not approving of his choice. There was something in that.

‘Helloooo? Anybody there?’ The door opened, and Priscilla – Midwife Gildea – stuck her head round the door. Something about her voice, and the pert cheeriness, and the angle of her disembodied head struck Alex as humorous, and he couldn’t prevent a guffaw from emerging. Turning it into an unconvincing cough, and ignoring Dan’s amused glance, he replied, ‘Yes? Hello, Midwife Gildea.’

‘Dr Lowe!’ She was all smiles. ‘And Dr Sheridan! My two favourites! Sister Campbell suggested I pop round to tell yous we have a free bed now – in case you have anybody for the ward.’

‘Good to know, thanks,’ Dan replied. ‘Nobody at the minute, but we’ve two women in labour, so we might need you later.’

‘Fair enough.’ There was a pause. Midwife Gildea was clearly trying to think of a reason to linger.