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

woman Lil.
     
    The doctor examined her and took a scrape of tissue from the chancre for the pathology lab. He also took a sample of blood for a Wassermann’s test. Then he said to Lil, “I think you have a very early infection of venereal disease. We … ”
     
    Before he had finished speaking she gave a great baying laugh. “Oh Gawd! Not again! That’s a laugh, that is!”
     
    The doctor’s face was stony. He said, “We have caught it early. I am going to give you penicillin now, and you must have another injection each day for ten days. We must protect your baby.”
     
    “Please yourself,” she giggled, “I’m easy,” and winked at him.
     
    His face was expressionless as he drew up a massive dose of penicillin and injected it into her thigh. We left her to get dressed, and went over to the desk.
     
    “We will get the results from pathology on the blood and serum,” he said to Novice Ruth, “but I don’t think there is any doubt about diagnosis. Would you Sisters arrange to visit daily for the injections? I think if we ask her to come to surgery she won’t bother, or will forget. If the foetus is still alive, we must do our best.”
     
    It was well after seven o’clock. Lil was dressed, and yelling to the children to come with her. She lit another fag, and called out gaily, “Well, tara all.”
     
    She looked knowingly at Novice Ruth, and said, with a leer - “Be good” - and shrieked with laughter.
     
    I told her that we would call each day to give her another injection. “Please yerself,” she said with a shrug, and left.
     
    I still had all my cleaning up to do. I felt so tired my legs could hardly move. The moral and emotional shock must have contributed to the fatigue.
     
    Novice Ruth grinned at me kindly. “You have to get used to all sorts in this life. Now, do you have any evening visits?”
     
    I nodded. “Three post-natal. One of them up in Bow.”
     
    “Then you go and do them. I will clean up here.”
     
    As I left the clinic, I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. The fresh air revived me, and the cycle ride dispelled my fatigue.
     
    The following morning, when I looked at the day book, I saw that I had to administer the penicillin injection to Lil Hoskin, Peabody Buildings. I groaned inwardly. I had known it would have to be me. The instruction was that it should be my last call before lunch, and that the syringe and needle should be kept separate from the midwifery case, also, that I should wear gloves. I didn’t need telling.
     
    The Peabody Buildings in Stepney were notorious. They had been condemned for demolition about fifteen years before, but were still standing and still housing families. They were the worst type of tenements, because the only water came from a single tap at the end of each balcony, where the only lavatory was situated. There were no facilities in the flats. My attitude towards Lil softened. Perhaps I would be like her if I had to live in such conditions.
     
    The door was open, but I knocked.
     
    “Come on in, luvvy. I’m expecting you. I’ve got some water ready for you.”
     
    How kind. She must have gone to a lot of trouble to get water and heat it up. The flat was filthy and stinking. Hardly a square inch of floor space could be seen, and small children, naked from the waist down, tumbled around all over the place.
     
    Lil seemed different in her own surroundings. Maybe the clinic had intimidated her in some way, so that she had felt the need to assert herself by showing off. She did not seem so loud and brash in her own home. The irritating giggle, I realised, was no more than constant and irrepressible good humour. She pushed the children around, but not unkindly.
     
    “Get out of it, yer li’l bleeder. The nurse can’t get in.” She turned to me. “Here you are. You can put your things down here.”
     
    She had gone to the trouble of clearing a small space on the table, and had put a washing bowl beside it, with soap and a grubby towel.
     
    “Thought you’d need a nice, clean towel, eh ducky?”
     
    Everything is relative.
     
    I put my bag on the table, but took out only the syringe, needle, ampoule, gloves and cotton swab soaked in spirit. The children were fascinated.
     
    “Get back, or I’ll clip your ear,” Lil said gaily. Then to me, “Do you wants me leg or me arse?”
     
    “Doesn’t matter. Whichever you prefer.”
     
    She lifted her skirts and bent over. The huge round backside looked like