The Giver of Stars(105)

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ said Alice, into the dim light, as he locked it again behind them with a crash of keys. ‘I was so afraid you wouldn’t get here in time.’

‘How far along is she?’

Alice shrugged, and Sophia ran her hand over Margery’s forehead. Margery’s eyes were clamped shut, her mind some where far from them, while another wave of pain crashed over her.

Sophia waited, her eyes alert and watchful, until it passed. ‘Margery? Margery, girl? How far apart are your pains?’

‘Don’t know,’ Margery murmured through dry lips. ‘Where’s Sven? Please. I need Sven.’

‘You got to pull yourself together now, stay focused. Alice, you got your wristwatch there? You start counting when I say, okay?’

Sophia’s mother had been the midwife for all the coloured folk in Baileyville. When she had been a child, Sophia had accompanied her on visits, carrying her mother’s big leather bag, handing her the instruments and herbs as they were needed, helping her sterilize and repack them ready for the next woman. She wasn’t fully trained, she said, but she was probably the best Margery was going to get.

‘You girls okay in there?’ Deputy Dulles stood respectfully behind the sheet as Margery began to wail again, her voice lowing, then building to a crescendo. He had made sure he was well away when his own wife had borne their children, and the indelicate sounds and scents of it made him a little queasy.

‘Sir? Could we possibly have some hot water?’ Sophia motioned to Alice to open the bag, gesturing at a clean fold of cotton.

‘I’ll ask Frank, see if he can boil some. He’s usually up at this hour. Be right back.’

‘I can’t do it.’ Margery’s eyes opened, fixed on something neither of them could see.

‘Sure you can,’ said Sophia, firmly. ‘That’s just nature’s way of telling us you’re nearly there.’

‘I can’t.’ Margery sounded breathless, exhausted. ‘I’m so tired …’ Alice took a handkerchief and wiped her face. Margery looked so pale, so drawn, despite her swollen belly. Without the daily rigours of her life outside, her limbs had lost their muscle, grown soft and white. It made Alice feel uncomfortable to see her, her cotton dress tight around her, the way it stuck to her damp skin.

‘A minute and a half,’ she said, as Margery began to moan again.

‘Yup. Baby’s coming all right. Okay, Margery. I’m going to lean you back here for a moment while I put a sheet down on this old mattress. Okay? You just hang on to Alice.’

‘Sven …’ Alice saw Margery’s lips shape his name as her knuckles grew yellow-white on Alice’s sleeve, her fingers a vice. She heard Sophia’s voice murmuring reassurances as she moved, sure-footed, in the near dark. The cells opposite were uncharacteristically silent.

‘Okay, sweetie. Now that baby’s coming, we need to get you into a position where she can make her way out. You hear me?’ Sophia motioned to Alice, helping her turn Margery, who barely seemed to register. ‘You keep listening to me, you hear?’

‘I’m afraid, Sophia.’

‘No, you ain’t, not really. That’s just the labouring talking.’

‘I don’t want her born here.’ Margery opened her eyes and looked imploringly at Sophia. ‘Not here. Please …’

Sophia put her hand on the back of Margery’s damp head and placed her cheek against hers. ‘I know, baby, but that’s what’s gonna happen. So we’re just gonna make it as easy as we can for the two of you. Okay? Now you turn over onto all fours. Yes, all fours – and just grab a hold of that bunk. Alice, you get yourself in front of her and hold tight on to her, okay? It’s going to get a little rough shortly and she’s going to need you to hang onto. That’s it, you give her your lap to rest on.’

Alice didn’t have time to feel fear. Almost as soon as she said it, Margery’s hands were gripping her, her face pressed into Alice’s thighs as she wailed, trying to bury the sound in Alice’s breeches. Her grip was so strong, as if she were possessed by forces beyond herself. Alice watched the tremors pass through her and winced, trying to ignore her own discomfort, hearing the unconscious words of encouragement stream from her mouth, even as she was swept along in the slipstream. Behind her Sophia had lifted Margery’s cotton dress, and positioned the oil lamp so that she could look at the most intimate parts of her, but Margery didn’t seem to care. She just kept moaning, her body rocking from side to side, as if she could shake off the pain, her hands grasping stickily for Alice’s own.

‘I got your water,’ came Deputy Dulles’s voice. And when Margery began to yell, he said. ‘I’m going to unlock the door and just push the jug inside. Okay? I’ve sent for the doctor, just in case. Oh, dear Lord, what in God’s – You know what? I’m just – I’ll leave it outside. I – Oh, dear God –’

‘Can we have some fresh water in here too, please, sir? Drinking water?’

‘I – I’ll leave it outside the door. Going to trust you girls not to go anywhere.’

‘You got nothing to concern yourself with, sir, believe me.’

Sophia was a whirlwind, laying out her mama’s steel instruments, placing them carefully on the clean folded cotton square. She kept one hand on Margery at all times, as one might a horse, reassuring, cooing, encouraging. She peered underneath her, positioned herself.