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

would identify them immediately, not only to the boss, but also to the wife back home!
     
    Mary found her lorry driver, and told me, “He was such a nice man. It was a long journey and we talked all the way. I sang him songs me dad taught me when I was a child, and he said I had a pretty voice. In some ways he was like me dad. You know, he even took me into a transport café and bought me a meal, and he wouldn’t take anything for it. He said ‘you keep that, lassie, because I think you are going to need it.’ I thought to myself, I’m going to like it in England if all the Englishmen are like this”. She paused, and looked down at her plate. Her voice was barely audible when she said, “He was the last good man I have met in this country.”
     
    There was silence between us for quite some moments. I did not want to force her confidence, and in any case I am not by nature nosy about other people’s affairs, so I said, “How about another ice cream? I’m sure you could manage it. And I wouldn’t mind another coffee, if you think you can afford it.”
     
    She laughed, and said, “I can afford a hundred cups of coffee.”
     
    The proprietor brought our order, and said it was 11.15 and he was closing his till, so could we pay now. But we were welcome to sit at the table until midnight.
     
    The bill was two shillings and ninepence, including coffee. That is equivalent to about twelve pence today. I drew myself to my full height, and with a grand gesture drew out the five pound note.
     
    He jumped and spluttered, “Look ’ere, ain’t you got nuffink smaller’n that? How do you expect me to change five pounds?”
     
    I said coldly and firmly, “I’m sorry, but I have nothing smaller. If I had, I would have given it to you. My friend has no money on her at all. If you can’t change the note, I am afraid we cannot pay for this meal.”
     
    I folded the note and put it back into my handbag. That did it. He said, “All right, all right, Miss Toffee-nose. You win.”
     
    He went and scratched through the till, then had to go out to the back to unlock the safe. He came back to the table, muttering and grumbling, and counted out four pounds, seventeen shillings and three pence change, whereupon I handed over the five pound note.
     
    Mary was giggling like a schoolgirl at all this. I winked at her, and put the change into my bag. She remained just as trusting, because I could have got up and walked out with all her money.
     
    It was getting late. Although it was my night off, I had had a very busy day, and I was on duty at 8 a.m. the next morning, with the likelihood of another busy day ahead. I was tempted to say, “Look I must get off now” but something drew me to this lonely girl, and I said, “Have you any plans for the baby?”
     
    She shook her head.
     
    “When is it due?”
     
    “I don’t know.”
     
    “Who are you booked with for confinement?”
     
    She said nothing, so I repeated the question.
     
    “I’m not booked with anyone,” she said.
     
    I was concerned. She looked about six months’ pregnant, but if she had been half starved it might be a small baby, in which case she could be nearer to full term. I said: “Look Mary, you must be booked for a confinement. Who is your doctor?”
     
    “I haven’t got one.”
     
    “Where do you live?”
     
    She didn’t answer, so I asked again, still no answer. She looked angry, and a hard suspicious tone came into her voice:
     
    “It’s none of your business,” she said. I think if I hadn’t had her four pounds, seventeen shillings and three pence in my handbag, she would have got up and walked out.
     
    “Mary, you might as well tell me, because you need a doctor, and antenatal care for your baby. I am a midwife and can probably arrange it for you.”
     
    She bit her lip, and picked her fingernails, then said, “I’ve been living at the Full Moon Café in Cable Street. But I can’t go back there any more.”
     
    “Why not?” I said. “Is it because you stole five pounds from the till?”
     
    She nodded.
     
    “They’ll kill me if they find me. And they will find me, somehow, I’m sure of that. Then they will kill me.”
     
    She said these last words in a flat matter of fact voice, as though she had faced and accepted the inevitable.
     
    It was my turn to be silent. I knew that the East End was a violent place. The midwives did not see it because we were deeply respected, and on the whole only dealt with the