The Midwife's Here!: The Enchanting True Story of One of Britain's Longest Serving Midwives by Linda Fairley Page A
Authors: Linda Fairley
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happy. She was talking about my married life, of course, but as I grappled with my resignation letter I played with my mother’s words in my mind. She would be dreadfully disappointed, but I convinced myself she would ultimately support my decision to quit. She wouldn’t want me to be miserable in my work, and nor would my father. They would understand, once they had got over the inevitable shock, and it wouldn’t be long before I got myself on a new course, hopefully nursery nursing, and started afresh.
I was trembling when Miss Bell summoned me into her office. ‘How can I help you, Nurse Lawton?’ she beamed,signalling for me to sit down in front of her desk as she eyed the letter in my hand with astute caution.
‘I have come to tender my resignation, Matron,’ I said meekly. ‘Here is my letter.’
Miss Bell took the letter from me, arched a silky eyebrow and asked, ‘May I know the reason?’
Her tone of voice showed no reaction to my dramatic news, and I felt my pulse pounding.
‘I don’t think nursing is the career for me,’ I said apologetically. My voice was wobbling and I was squeezing my hands together on my lap to stop them shaking.
‘I see. Please wait here. I just have to slip out.’
With that, Miss Bell swished past me rather majestically, clutching the letter to her bosom.
As the clip-clop of her heels grew fainter, my heartbeat drummed louder. I wanted to run in the opposite direction down the corridor but I sat still, obediently waiting for Miss Bell to get back.
I felt incredibly uncomfortable, not knowing what she might say or do on her return. There was a ticking clock sitting on her desk, and a black telephone. How long would she be? What if the telephone rang? My legs started to jangle. I clenched my toes inside my shoes and tried to anchor my heels firmly onto the floor. I was absolutely terrified, and I sat like that for a full twelve minutes before Miss Bell reappeared.
She was smiling, thank goodness.
‘You have struggled at times, Nurse Lawton, haven’t you?’ she said kindly.
I nodded.
‘I do understand. Lots of girls find it very difficult, particularly here at the MRI, where our standards are so exacting.’
I wanted to cry, but I didn’t.
Miss Bell was still holding my letter, which she now raised aloft. ‘However, I am not just going to accept this,’ she said, before folding it briskly in two and depositing it in her desk drawer. ‘I am going to send you to St Mary’s Maternity Hospital in the centre of town for three months. You will continue to live here. You will have breakfast here each morning and then a taxi will pick you up at 7.30 a.m. sharp and take you to St Mary’s. You will have your tea there and you will wear the same uniform, but you must not wear your apron in the taxi. Let’s give it a try, shall we?’
I nodded gratefully. I wanted to get out of Miss Bell’s office as quickly as possible, and I felt a wave of relief as I realised that although she had not accepted my resignation she had handed me a ticket out of the MRI.
‘Go and see Mr Tate now, please. He is expecting you.’
Miss Bell did not expand on why she thought maternity nursing might be the way forward for me, and I am sure she had no idea I had an interest in nursery nursing. To this day, I believe she simply followed her instincts – and how sharp they were!
She must have conferred with Mr Tate during the period when she left me alone in her room because he already knew about my new placement and made a point of wishing me luck. It was very kind of him to help facilitate this opportunity and I thanked him profusely.
Maternity meant babies. How lovely! That could be even better than working with small children, I thought optimistically. I pictured pretty babies gurgling and sleeping peacefully while I made up bottles and fetched their tired but radiant mothers a freshly brewed cup of tea. I had no experience ofbabies whatsoever – had never even picked one up –
I was trembling when Miss Bell summoned me into her office. ‘How can I help you, Nurse Lawton?’ she beamed,signalling for me to sit down in front of her desk as she eyed the letter in my hand with astute caution.
‘I have come to tender my resignation, Matron,’ I said meekly. ‘Here is my letter.’
Miss Bell took the letter from me, arched a silky eyebrow and asked, ‘May I know the reason?’
Her tone of voice showed no reaction to my dramatic news, and I felt my pulse pounding.
‘I don’t think nursing is the career for me,’ I said apologetically. My voice was wobbling and I was squeezing my hands together on my lap to stop them shaking.
‘I see. Please wait here. I just have to slip out.’
With that, Miss Bell swished past me rather majestically, clutching the letter to her bosom.
As the clip-clop of her heels grew fainter, my heartbeat drummed louder. I wanted to run in the opposite direction down the corridor but I sat still, obediently waiting for Miss Bell to get back.
I felt incredibly uncomfortable, not knowing what she might say or do on her return. There was a ticking clock sitting on her desk, and a black telephone. How long would she be? What if the telephone rang? My legs started to jangle. I clenched my toes inside my shoes and tried to anchor my heels firmly onto the floor. I was absolutely terrified, and I sat like that for a full twelve minutes before Miss Bell reappeared.
She was smiling, thank goodness.
‘You have struggled at times, Nurse Lawton, haven’t you?’ she said kindly.
I nodded.
‘I do understand. Lots of girls find it very difficult, particularly here at the MRI, where our standards are so exacting.’
I wanted to cry, but I didn’t.
Miss Bell was still holding my letter, which she now raised aloft. ‘However, I am not just going to accept this,’ she said, before folding it briskly in two and depositing it in her desk drawer. ‘I am going to send you to St Mary’s Maternity Hospital in the centre of town for three months. You will continue to live here. You will have breakfast here each morning and then a taxi will pick you up at 7.30 a.m. sharp and take you to St Mary’s. You will have your tea there and you will wear the same uniform, but you must not wear your apron in the taxi. Let’s give it a try, shall we?’
I nodded gratefully. I wanted to get out of Miss Bell’s office as quickly as possible, and I felt a wave of relief as I realised that although she had not accepted my resignation she had handed me a ticket out of the MRI.
‘Go and see Mr Tate now, please. He is expecting you.’
Miss Bell did not expand on why she thought maternity nursing might be the way forward for me, and I am sure she had no idea I had an interest in nursery nursing. To this day, I believe she simply followed her instincts – and how sharp they were!
She must have conferred with Mr Tate during the period when she left me alone in her room because he already knew about my new placement and made a point of wishing me luck. It was very kind of him to help facilitate this opportunity and I thanked him profusely.
Maternity meant babies. How lovely! That could be even better than working with small children, I thought optimistically. I pictured pretty babies gurgling and sleeping peacefully while I made up bottles and fetched their tired but radiant mothers a freshly brewed cup of tea. I had no experience ofbabies whatsoever – had never even picked one up –
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