supposed to cure you of the feeling of nausea, but that had to be an old wives’ tale as Chrissie still felt wretched. She heard the letterbox flap in the hallway as the paper boy shoved the Daily Telegraph through, thrusting yet more unwelcome news into her life. She reluctantly heaved herself up and retrieved the paper. The headline screamed out at her. ‘BRITAIN’S LAST WARNING’.
Yesterday, Adolf Hitler had invaded Poland and war now seemed inevitable. Air raid shelters had been erected and thousands of children had already been evacuated. Chrissie cupped her stomach with both hands and sighed. She was harbouring a secret that would bring more disruption and upset to this household than the declaration of war ever could. She was startled by the urgent ringing of the doorbell and glanced at the clock on the wall. Who on earth could be here at six-thirty in the morning? Whoever it was now banged on the door as well.
‘Alright, I’m coming,’ called Chrissie, irritably.
She opened the door to Mr Cutler, a neighbour and one of their patients.
‘Where’s your mother?’ he demanded. ‘Maud’s gone into labour, screaming the place down she is.’ He pushed his way into the hall. ‘Where is she?’ He called up the stairs. ‘Mrs Skinner?’
Chrissie lifted her eyes skywards and tutted. These first-time fathers were all the same.
‘She’s in bed asleep, or at least she was until you started banging the door down.’
Mabel Skinner appeared on the landing, hurriedly tying the cord of her dressing gown.
‘Mr Cutler,’ she exclaimed. ‘What is it?’
‘Maud’s having the baby, please come quick.’
Chrissie and her mother exchanged worried glances. Maud Cutler’s baby wasn’t due for another four weeks.
‘Chrissie,’ barked Mabel. ‘Get my bag ready will you, get dressed and go and pull your father’s car round. I’ll have to drive Maud to the hospital.’
Mr Cutler look alarmed. ‘Can’t you deliver the baby at home, Mrs Skinner? You know she wanted to give birth in her own bed.’
‘No, Jamie, I can’t,’ explained Mabel. ‘Your baby isn’t due for another month, there may be complications. Given Maud’s age, I think it would be better to go to hospital. Now go home and wait for me there.’
Chrissie stood rooted to the spot. In just a few short months she would be in this position, screaming in pain, legs akimbo in stirrups, the disapproving stares of the midwives, the wrath of her father, the disappointment of her mother. She began to have difficulty breathing and tried to tell herself it would be alright. Billy would be with her and as long as she had him she could get through anything. She gripped the door frame to steady herself. Her mother’s sharp voice made her jump.
‘Chrissie! Move!’
The next day, Sunday 3 rd September, was a gloriously sunny day. It seemed unthinkable that war could be declared on such a beautiful day. The Skinners sat around the kitchen table with the wireless in the middle, each nursing a mug of tea, lost in their own thoughts. Chrissie was thinking about her unborn baby because she never thought about anything else. Mabel Skinner was thinking about the Cutler’s baby born yesterday, too soon, too small, and willing him to live. Dr Skinner was already thinking about how to celebrate the fact that Billy Stirling would soon be out of his daughter’s life for good. His call-up papers would surely arrive soon. The silence was broken by a timid tap on the back door. Dr Skinner rose and opened it cautiously.
It was the last person on Earth he wanted to see right now. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.
‘I wanted to listen to the broadcast with Chrissie. Is she in?’
Chrissie heard Billy’s voice and jumped up.
‘Come in, Billy, have a seat.’
He kissed her on the cheek and took his place at the table. He took hold of Chrissie’s hand and stared Dr Skinner in the eye. He looked away and fiddled with a knob on the wireless. At eleven-fifteen,
Yesterday, Adolf Hitler had invaded Poland and war now seemed inevitable. Air raid shelters had been erected and thousands of children had already been evacuated. Chrissie cupped her stomach with both hands and sighed. She was harbouring a secret that would bring more disruption and upset to this household than the declaration of war ever could. She was startled by the urgent ringing of the doorbell and glanced at the clock on the wall. Who on earth could be here at six-thirty in the morning? Whoever it was now banged on the door as well.
‘Alright, I’m coming,’ called Chrissie, irritably.
She opened the door to Mr Cutler, a neighbour and one of their patients.
‘Where’s your mother?’ he demanded. ‘Maud’s gone into labour, screaming the place down she is.’ He pushed his way into the hall. ‘Where is she?’ He called up the stairs. ‘Mrs Skinner?’
Chrissie lifted her eyes skywards and tutted. These first-time fathers were all the same.
‘She’s in bed asleep, or at least she was until you started banging the door down.’
Mabel Skinner appeared on the landing, hurriedly tying the cord of her dressing gown.
‘Mr Cutler,’ she exclaimed. ‘What is it?’
‘Maud’s having the baby, please come quick.’
Chrissie and her mother exchanged worried glances. Maud Cutler’s baby wasn’t due for another four weeks.
‘Chrissie,’ barked Mabel. ‘Get my bag ready will you, get dressed and go and pull your father’s car round. I’ll have to drive Maud to the hospital.’
Mr Cutler look alarmed. ‘Can’t you deliver the baby at home, Mrs Skinner? You know she wanted to give birth in her own bed.’
‘No, Jamie, I can’t,’ explained Mabel. ‘Your baby isn’t due for another month, there may be complications. Given Maud’s age, I think it would be better to go to hospital. Now go home and wait for me there.’
Chrissie stood rooted to the spot. In just a few short months she would be in this position, screaming in pain, legs akimbo in stirrups, the disapproving stares of the midwives, the wrath of her father, the disappointment of her mother. She began to have difficulty breathing and tried to tell herself it would be alright. Billy would be with her and as long as she had him she could get through anything. She gripped the door frame to steady herself. Her mother’s sharp voice made her jump.
‘Chrissie! Move!’
The next day, Sunday 3 rd September, was a gloriously sunny day. It seemed unthinkable that war could be declared on such a beautiful day. The Skinners sat around the kitchen table with the wireless in the middle, each nursing a mug of tea, lost in their own thoughts. Chrissie was thinking about her unborn baby because she never thought about anything else. Mabel Skinner was thinking about the Cutler’s baby born yesterday, too soon, too small, and willing him to live. Dr Skinner was already thinking about how to celebrate the fact that Billy Stirling would soon be out of his daughter’s life for good. His call-up papers would surely arrive soon. The silence was broken by a timid tap on the back door. Dr Skinner rose and opened it cautiously.
It was the last person on Earth he wanted to see right now. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.
‘I wanted to listen to the broadcast with Chrissie. Is she in?’
Chrissie heard Billy’s voice and jumped up.
‘Come in, Billy, have a seat.’
He kissed her on the cheek and took his place at the table. He took hold of Chrissie’s hand and stared Dr Skinner in the eye. He looked away and fiddled with a knob on the wireless. At eleven-fifteen,
Similar Books
