‘Are you expected?’ asked the girl who answered the door. She looked very
young, as if she’d just become a teenager, but then all young people looked
like that to Maddie now, a symptom of getting older maybe.
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ answered Maddie.
‘We’d like to speak to someone in charge,’ said Gertie. Her voice held
the familiar note of authority that it sometimes did when she wanted to cut
to the heart of things.
Maddie was glad of it. Glad her friend had taken the reins and seemed
to be in charge. She was still finding it hard to control the tremble in her
hands and had balled them into tight fists.
‘Matron, you mean. I’m not sure if she’s in her office or on rounds. I
haven’t seen her this morning.’ The girl finally smiled. ‘But if you’d like
me to look…’
‘Maybe we could come in,’ said Maddie, her tone polite.
The girl had been standing in the entrance, holding onto the door,
barring the way like a sentry on guard. Like another sentry Maddie
remembered from long ago, less friendly than this one.
‘Oh, yes. Sorry.’ She opened the door wider and directed them to the
upholstered chairs in the reception hall, then scuttled away to find the
woman in charge.
Matron. She was the last person on earth that Maddie wanted to see or
speak to; she was having a struggle to stop her breakfast forcing its way up
her throat. She fought hard to control the dark feeling of impending doom
that being in this place re-ignited in her.
And it was foolish, for this woman could no longer hurt her, had no
power over her now. So why should she allow herself to be terrorised by it
all? Being back there, she supposed. But it was different now, and she was
no longer alone, having to face the anger of this matron or the hurtful barbs
and jibes of Sister Bennett, the midwife. Now she had Gertie. A friend tried
and tested and true. An ally ready to do battle.
Maddie’s eyes went to the floor beneath her. She’d been on her hands
and knees scrubbing those stone flags until her hands had lost all feeling,
her back ached and her knees were rubbed raw.
She got up from the seat and began to pace.
The young woman returned and looked at them both in turn, unsure who
she should address.
‘Yes?’ said Maddie.
‘Matron would like to know the nature of your visit.’ She looked again
from one to the other. ‘And who may I tell her is calling?’
‘You may tell her that Madeline Brady would like to see her.’
‘And Gertrude Adams,’ added Gertie, haughtily.
‘Regarding what?’ the girl asked.
‘Just tell her one of her old girls has come back for a visit,’ said Maddie.
‘Always good to chew over old times, don’t you think?’ Maddie winked.
She didn’t usually resort to sarcasm. Maybe I should, she thought. Because,
suddenly, she felt a whole lot better. A whole lot chirpier.
‘Oh, I see. Well, they sometimes do that.’
‘They do?’ asked Maddie, shocked.
‘Some of them are quite nostalgic,’ said the girl. ‘They bring their
children back to visit.’ She smiled and bustled off again to the matron’s
office.
Maddie gave up her pacing and slumped back down into the seat.
Chirpiness could only get you so far.
‘I’m coming in with you, Madds.’
‘You don’t have to. I’ve come this far, I might as well face the old witch
in her den.’
‘Yeah, but you ain’t doing it alone. I’m the one dragged you here. And
after what you told me about the old bat, I want to match her eyeball-to
eyeball.’
‘Don’t worry, Gert. She can’t intimidate me anymore.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ said a voice from behind them. ‘Now, if you
ladies would like to follow me, I think this is a conversation best carried out
in my office.’
They stood up to follow the woman, and Gertie threw a questioning
look in Maddie’s direction, mouthed the words, ‘Who is she?’
Maddie just shrugged, as she had no idea who it was.
They followed her into an office marked Private. Maddie and Gertie
each took a seat on one side of a large paper-strewn desk, and the young
woman settled herself behind it, picked up a telephone. ‘Tea, ladies?’ she
asked, her voice friendly.
The enquiry threw Maddie, for she’d been readying herself for full
battle mode. But she nodded and the woman spoke into the phone.
‘Ah, Cook, tea for three in my office? And if you could run to a few
biscuits as well, that would be lovely. Really? You’re a gem. I’m sure these
ladies would be delighted to sample your saffron buns.’ She looked directly
at Maddie. ‘Lilly makes the best Cornish saffron buns you’ll ever taste,’ she
said, and returned the phone to its cradle. ‘Now, would you like to talk
before we have our tea, or wait until our mouths are stuffed full of saffron
buns?’ she laughed.
‘I don’t know quite where to begin,’ said Maddie. ‘It’s confusing. I was
expecting to talk to the matron, and it’s a bit of a delicate matter.’
‘No doubt it is, Maddie,’ the woman said.
‘Maddie? You know me?’
‘How could I ever forget you, Maddie Brady? And I am the matron.’
‘But I don’t understand. The matron, she was old and crusty and…’ And
then it came to her. How stupid she’d been to worry about seeing Matron
again. Even then the woman had been ancient, of course she wouldn’t be
there after all these years. But the trauma and the memory of this place had
been preserved in Maddie’s mind, trapped in amber, as if nothing had
changed.
‘Matron was harsh, that’s true. She was a bitter old woman, Miss
Robertson. And she often took out her own frustrations on the girls. At
times, this wasn’t a happy place. And I’ve made it my job to change all that,
Maddie.’
‘You knew her? Did you work here, then?’
‘You’ve forgotten me. Or maybe you don’t recognise me. Sixteen years
can change a person a lot. I was young. I’m older and maybe a little wiser
too. Enough to know that a place like this can be run properly and thrive on
love rather than fear.’
‘But how—?’
‘We talked such a lot, you and me. I was a young nurse then, but I’ve
never forgotten how you fought to keep your baby when Matron tried so
hard to persuade you to give it up. That’s why I couldn’t understand what
happened.’
‘You’re Ethel? Nurse Ethel Ryder?’ asked Maddie. ‘What – and now
you’re the matron, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Hold on,’ interrupted Gertie. ‘You’re Maddie’s angel?’
‘Maddie’s what?’ asked Ethel.
‘Madds told me everybody here was a witch, apart from one real angel
called Nurse Ethel. And is that you?’ Gertie asked. ‘I’m confused.’
‘Looks like you’re not the only one,’ said Maddie. ‘I can’t believe this.
Maybe what the lad said was true. He said he met with the matron, a
wonderful, caring woman. And I didn’t believe him. Because Miss
Robertson was never a caring woman.’
‘No, I don’t suppose many would describe her that way,’ said Ethel, and
she sighed. ‘But we’ve all got our reasons for being how we are. And that’s
why I didn’t judge her. Or you, Maddie, when you did what you did.
Although, I must admit that it surprised me. Especially knowing how much
you’d looked forward to having your baby. I just couldn’t believe you
would give him away like that. But, like I said, no judgement. Who are we
to judge each other?’
‘What! You think I gave my baby away?’ said Maddie, angrily. ‘No!’
she screamed. ‘That’s a lie! And you weren’t even here. You were off
looking after your mother when I went into labour. I prayed you would
come, but you didn’t, and that awful, sadistic midwife just laughed every
time I had a contraction. You think I’d go through all that and then give my
baby away?’
There was a knock on the door and the tea arrived, carried in by the
young girl who had opened the front door to them. She carefully set down
the buns on separate plates as if she were a waitress in a teashop and then
left quietly. Maybe she was glad to leave. Had felt the tense atmosphere in
the room. Maddie wished she could have left too.
‘Look,’ said Ethel Ryder, ‘you must calm yourself down. I didn’t mean
to upset you, but it seems that some wires have been crossed here. Some
simple miscommunication has taken place.’
‘You bet it has,’ said Maddie. ‘I went through a long and painful labour
only to have a stillborn baby. And that witch of a midwife told me that my
dead baby was God’s retribution for sinners.’
‘Wait. Sister Bennett told you your baby had died?’
‘It had died,’ said Maddie. ‘She smacked its bottom and it didn’t cry
and she gave me something to make my milk dry up. Then they packed me
off to Redruth hospital.’
‘I see,’ said the matron, thoughtfully. ‘And did she ask you to sign
anything, before you went to Redruth?’
‘Yes,’ said Maddie. ‘Some sort of discharge thing. Sister Bennett said it
meant I could leave here. She said it was a release that I needed to sign.’
‘And you didn’t read it?’ asked Ethel.
‘No, I didn’t read it. I was upset. I’d just lost my baby and I wanted to
leave.’
‘So, Matron – what did Maddie really sign?’ asked Gertie.
‘Papers releasing her from any more connection with her baby.
Adoption papers. You gave your baby up, Maddie. Although they never
managed to find anyone to adopt him, and he ended up in an orphanage.’
‘You mean that heartless midwife tricked me – and my baby was alive?
And the poor little mite thought I gave it away?’ Maddie sat in silence,
stunned by the monumental news.
‘The cruel cow,’ said Gertie. ‘Why would she do that?’
Maddie forced herself to remember. Her voice came out in a flat,
emotionless monotone and as she stared hard into Ethel Ryder’s calm face,
her own face felt frozen: ‘God’s retribution for sinners, the woman told me.
And she was so superior, standing there in judgement.’ Maddie’s voice
faltered now. ‘I smacked her across her smug, self-righteous face.’
‘Good for you,’ said Gertie. ‘She deserved it.’
‘Yes? But maybe if I hadn’t done that, she’d have given me my baby.
Instead, she told me I’d be sorry. I didn’t know what she meant.’ Maddie
clasped her hands tightly in her lap. ‘That’s when she gave me the papers to
sign.’
Ethel Ryder cleared her throat discreetly. It was either that or give way
to the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She’d taught herself to be
strong, for her job there was often a challenge that brought sadness in its
wake.
‘I’m so sorry, Maddie,’ said Ethel. ‘But it makes sense to me now. It
didn’t before and that’s what I told Charlie Brady when he came to see me.
I couldn’t understand why you put the lad up for adoption when you wanted
your baby so much, had fought desperately for him. I told him that! But I
don’t know if he believed me. Because he said he was going to look for his
father, instead of his mother. For how could a mother give her son away?
That’s what he asked me, Maddie. And I didn’t know what to tell him.
Many women here have been broken-hearted, have had to give up their
babies, not because they wanted to, but because they had no choice. But
you – you were so adamant that you would not give up your child! And I
couldn’t understand what changed your mind. But I do now. And I’m so
very sorry.’
‘So, you’re telling me that this young boy really is my son? Is that what
you’re saying, Ethel? Absolutely no doubts?’
‘No doubt about it,’ said the matron.
‘Dear God!’
‘Hey, Maddie, you’re not gonna faint again, are you?’ said Gertie.
She didn’t. She felt bitterness and anger towards the midwife who had
cheated her of years with her child. And guilt as well. For Charlie Brady
had been cheated too, of people who would love him. But anger was such a
negative emotion and exhausting to keep up, so she exchanged it for
happiness. Found a smile.
She had a baby. A rather tall baby, one with a voice that had already
broken and spots on his face. But the best bit was that he had Rudi Fischer’s
eyes. She and Rudi had a baby. How could she possibly top that?
