Farewell To The East End

finger inside the os and ran it around the rim, but could feel only the smooth, round surface of the baby’s head. The cord had disappeared. Internal fluid suction, caused by shifting the baby, must have withdrawn the slippery cord without any further action being required from the midwife.
    Chummy felt giddy with relief and leaned her head on Kirsty’s capacious thigh. She giggled weakly.
    ‘It’s done, it’s done, thanks be to God! And thanks to you, Kirsty. You didn’t move. I couldn’t have done it without you.’
    ‘All in a day’s work,’ observed Kirsty casually.
    The whole operation had taken only about thirty seconds. But Chummy sat trembling with relief for another two or three minutes, until her more practical side took over. Now that the baby was safe, how was it to be delivered? All sorts of questions tumbled into her mind. Kirsty looked quite comfortable, but could a baby be delivered in an upside-down position? She wondered what the midwifery tutors would say about that! On the other hand, moving this massive female might be a problem. Kirsty had rolled down the slope of the bed, but would she be able to roll up? The third stage of labour, the delivery of the placenta, was vitally important, and Chummy was not confident about the mother expelling a placenta upside-down. Kirsty would have to be moved. Then the cord came into her mind. Reverse pressure had made it withdraw into the uterus, but if Kirsty stood up, as she would have to, would the downward pressure displace the cord and make it slip forward again? Chummy could not be sure, but it might. The risk was too great. Kirsty would have to remain in her present position.
    Chummy sat beside the labouring woman, listening to the wind and feeling the ship move beneath her. She was not really surprised by the extraordinary situation in which she found herself; after all she was going to be a missionary and she would have to be prepared for anything. She was a thoughtful, prayerful girl, and she thanked God she was being tested in this way.
    She pondered the ugly situation in which Kirsty had been placed. First abused, probably raped, when she was fourteen by her father, and then confined to a ship for the pleasure of all the men, including her father. Yet, Chummy reflected, she seemed happy and content. Perhaps, as she had known no other life, it all seemed quite natural to her. The men were obviously fond of her – their concern as she struggled down the gangway was evident – and she was not ill-treated. Common prostitutes, pushed onto the streets by pimps and beaten up if they protested, had a much worse life, she thought.
    Another contraction came, and the waters broke. Thank God I was able to replace the cord, she thought; it was only just in time. Labour was progressing fast, and Kirsty was wonderful. She had had no sedation but had barely murmured at the pain. Chummy could feel the head well down on the pelvic floor. ‘It won’t be long now,’ she said aloud.
    Kirsty groaned and pushed. When the contraction had passed she said, ‘I’ve been thinking about this baby. I’m so glad now. I never thought I’d have one, because Dad always gave me the boxes of rubbers and said the boys must always wear them. So they did. But now I’m having a baby. And I’m glad.’
    ‘I’m sure you are. A woman may not want a baby, but she’s always happy when it comes,’ said Chummy.
    ‘I hope it’s a little girl. I’d like a little girl. I have enough men. But I don’t want her to have my life. It wouldn’t be right for a young girl. I think Dad will understand if I talk to him. What’s your name, nurse?’
    ‘Camilla,’ said Chummy.
    ‘Oh, what a beautiful name. I want to give her your name, nurse, may I?’
    ‘Of course. I should be honoured.’
    ‘Baby Camilla. That’s a lovely name.’
    Another contraction came, only two minutes after the last, fiercer and longer. Kirsty had no vaginal or perineal resistance, so the head was able to descend quickly and easily. She gripped her hands until the knuckles showed white and pushed hard, forcing the weight of her buttocks against the end of the bed. In protest, the bed trembled and collapsed with a crash onto the floor.
    The problem of an upside-down delivery had been solved! Mother and midwife were now on the floor, Kirsty floundering and pushing, Chummy desperately trying to control the situation.
    Poor Kirsty was bewildered. ‘What happened?’ she kept asking. Chummy, who had