Call the Midwife: A True Story of the East End in the 1950S

he turned his attention to Tom, and told him what a lucky chap he was, and how all the other chaps had been after her, but that he (Ern) had reckoned that he (Tom) was the best of the bunch, and would look after his little Bella, because he was a good hard-working lad, and would remember that success in life and marriage depends upon “early to bed and up with the cock”.
     
    The uncles guffawed and winked, and the aunts affected to look shocked and said to each other, “Ow, ’e is a one, ’e is.”
     
    Tom turned pink and smiled because everyone else was laughing. It was possible that he didn’t understand. Bella kept her eyes firmly on her jelly, it being prudent that she shouldn’t be seen to understand.
     
    After the delights of the honeymoon spent in one of the best boarding houses in Clacton, they returned to a small flat, near to Bella’s mum. Flo was determined that her daughter should have the best of everything, and had purchased fitted carpets in their absence. Such a luxury was virtually unknown in the East End in those days. Tom was bemused and kept rubbing his toes up and down the soft pile to see how it moved. Bella was enchanted, and it triggered an orgy of spending on household items, most of them relatively new and unheard of among her neighbours: an upholstered three-piece suite; electric wall lights; a television; a telephone; a refrigerator; a toaster; and an electric kettle. Tom found them all very novel, and was glad that his Bella was so happy playing the little housewife. He had to take on more and more overtime to keep up the payments, but he was young and strong, and didn’t mind, as long as she was content.
     
    Bella booked with the Nonnatus Midwives for her first pregnancy, because her mother advised it. She attended antenatal clinic each Tuesday afternoon, and was perfectly healthy. She was about thirty-two weeks pregnant when Flo came to see us one evening. It was outside our routine hours, but she seemed agitated. “I’m worrit about our Bell, I am. She’s depressed or summat. I can see it, an’ Tom can see it an’ all, ’e can. She won’t talk, she won’t look at no one, she won’t do nuffink. Tom says, ’e says, often the dishes aren’t even washed up when he gits in, an’ the place is a real pigsty. Somefinks up, I tells you.”
     
    We said that clinically Bella was quite healthy, and the pregnancy was normal. We also said that we would visit her at home, in addition to her Tuesday antenatal clinic.
     
    Bella was certainly depressed. Several of us visited, and we all observed the same symptoms - lethargy, inattention, disinterest. We called in her doctor. Flo made heroic efforts to try to get her out of it, by taking her out to buy piles of baby clothes and various paraphernalia considered necessary. Tom was very worried, and fussed and fretted over her whenever he was at home; but as he worked such long hours, even longer now in order to pay for all the baby things, most of the burden fell on Flo, who was a solicitous and devoted mother.
     
    Bella went into labour at full term. She was neither early nor late according to her dates. Her mother called us around lunchtime to say that the pains were coming every ten minutes, and that she had had a show. I finished my lunch, and stocked up on two helpings of pudding as a precaution against missing my tea. A primigravida with contractions every ten minutes is not an emergency.
     
    I cycled in a leisurely manner round to Bella’s house. Flo was waiting on the doorstep to greet me. It was a sunny afternoon, but she looked worried. “She’s like I says, no change, but I’m not ’appy. Somefink’s up. She’s not ’erself. It’s not normal, it’s not.”
     
    Like most women of her generation, Flo was an experienced amateur midwife.
     
    Bella was in the sitting room on the new settee, digging her fingernails into the upholstery. She was pulling out bits of stuffing. She stared at me dully as I entered and ground her teeth. She continued grinding her teeth for some time after she had withdrawn her attention from me. She didn’t say a word.
     
    I said, “I must examine you, Bella, if you are going into labour. I need to know how far on you are, and what the baby’s position is, and listen to its heartbeat. Could you come into the bedroom, please?”
     
    She didn’t move. More stuffing came out of the sofa. Flo tried to coax her along. “Come on, luvvy, it won’t be long now. We all has to go