Jennifer Worth - Call The Midwife - A True Story Of The East End In The 1950S

I could feel Novice Ruth watching me very closely all the time. I raised my eyes, and looked at her questioningly. She said, “I’ll get a pair of gloves. Do not proceed just yet, nurse.”

She returned a couple of seconds later, and took my place. She did not say a word until she withdrew her hand, and covered Lil again with the blanket.

“You can put your legs down now, Lil, but stay where you are, please, because we will want to examine you again in a minute. Come with me to the desk, will you, nurse?”

At the desk, which was at the other end of the room, she said to me very quietly: “I think the lump is a syphilitic chancre. I am going to ring Dr Turner straight away and ask him if he can come to examine her while she is still here. If we send her away with instructions to go to a doctor, there is a high chance that she will not go. The spirochaeta pallida of syphilis can cross the placenta and infect the foetus. However, the chancre is the first stage of syphilis, and with early diagnosis and treatment there is a good chance of cure, and the baby will be spared.”

I nearly fainted, in fact I remember having to grip the table before I could sit down. I had been touching her - the revolting creature - and her syphilitic chancre. I couldn’t speak, but Novice Ruth said to me kindly, “Don’t worry. You were wearing gloves. You won’t have caught anything.”

She left to go to Nonnatus House to ring the doctor. I couldn’t move. I sat at the table for a full five minutes, fighting down wave after wave of nausea, and shuddering. The children were playing all around me, perfectly happy. There was no movement from behind the screen, until the low, steady sound of contented snoring penetrated my ears. Lil was asleep.

The doctor arrived about fifteen minutes later, and Novice Ruth asked me to accompany him. I must have looked pale, because she asked, “Are you all right? Will you manage?”

I nodded dumbly. I couldn’t say no. After all, I was a trained nurse, accustomed to all sorts of frightful situations. Yet even after five years of hospital work - casualty, theatre, cancer patients, amputations, dying, death - nothing and no one had caused such profound revulsion in me as that 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 a positive affirmation of solidarity. The children gawped, and crowded in closer. With a shrill scream of laughter Lil kicked backwards, like a horse.

“Garn. Aint you seen this before?”

She roared with laughter, and the bottom wobbled so much it was impossible to inject it.

“Look, hold on to the chair and keep still for a second, will you?” I was laughing now.

She did, and the injection was over in less than a minute. I rubbed the area hard to disperse the fluid, as it was a large dose. I put everything into a brown paper bag to keep it separate. Then I washed my hands and dried them on her towel, just to please her. We carried our own towel, but I thought that to use it would be a conspicuous snub.

She came to the door with me, and out onto the balcony, all the children following. “See you tomorrow, then. I’ll look forward to yer comin. I’ll ’ave a nice cup of tea for yer.”

I cycled off with much to think about. In her own surroundings, Lil was not a disgusting old bag, she was a heroine. She kept the family together, in appalling conditions, and the children looked happy. She was cheerful and uncomplaining. How she had come to pick up syphilis was none of my business. I was there to treat the condition, not to judge.