Page 91 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘Yes, I need an ambulance,’ she says again. ‘Christmas House, Mistletoe Square, Bloomsbury. A baby has just been born and it’s not breathing very well. Ah … uh … Crikey, really? … You think? … Right, I’ll do that.’ And she puts the receiver down. Then she picks up a notebook next to the telephone and flicks through it. ‘Where are you? Where are you?’ she mutters, impatiently turning the pages. ‘Right!’ Then she begins the process of dialling a telephone number once more.
‘It’s a wonder we ever got through to anyone!’ Angela says, watching her younger self. ‘Bit different to today when you just press a couple of buttons on your mobile to ring someone.’
‘But why are you ringing for an ambulance?’ I ask looking anxiously up the stairs. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Did you know when you were born you had some breathing difficulties?’ Estelle asks.
‘Er … yes, kind of. I know I was in hospital when I was a baby. Not far up the road from here in Great Ormond Street. Wait, are you saying the baby you’re talking about is me? I was bornhere,in this house?’
Estelle nods. ‘Your mother wasn’t due today; she was due in January. But you came very suddenly and very early.’
‘Estelle and I had delivered a few babies in the house,’ Angela explains. ‘But we were really here for our mothers before and after they gave birth. But Tanzy’s waters broke and she went into labour very quickly. She didn’t want to go to hospital so we decided she would have a home birth here.’
I look up the stairs again. How can this be happening? This is all so crazy.
‘Finally!’ Eighties Angela snaps into the telephone. ‘Yes, I need a taxi at Mistletoe Square, Bloomsbury as fast as you can – it’s an emergency! No, twenty minutes isn’t all right. Didn’t you just hear me? I said it’s an emergency! Well, get one here as fast as you can then. My name is Angela, and it’s Number Five, Christmas House.’ And she slams the phone down.
‘Angela! How are you getting on?’ Eighties Estelle calls from the top of the stairs. ‘How long will the ambulance be? I’ve managed to get the baby breathing, but it’s not easy for the poor mite.’
Angela looks desperately up the stairs, and then back down at the telephone.
‘We’re getting a taxi!’ she calls. ‘Get everyone ready. I’ll be five minutes!’
Without grabbing a coat, Angela rushes to the front door.
Our Estelle and Angela encourage us to follow her, so once again we find ourselves outside on the steps of Christmas House.
Mistletoe Square doesn’t look that dissimilar to how it looks today, perhaps a tad scruffier and a little more unkempt. But the gardens are still filled with the same trees, and the gas lamps that still surround the edges of the square glow in the same way they always do, whether in the nineteenth century or the twenty-first.
But I don’t have time to make any more comparisons; Angela is already opening up the door to Holly House and calling in through the hall.
‘Fred!’ she calls. ‘Fred! Are you there? Come here quickly!’
After a moment or two, a young boy of about fourteen appears at the door. He’s wearing an Arsenal football shirt and blue jeans, and has bare feet.
‘What’s up, Ang? The women nearly had heart failure then when you called through the door. We was just watchingCagney and Laceyon the telly. I don’t think it’s a Christmas episode, but I guess it’s better thanCoronation Streetthey were all watching earlier.’
‘Fred, concentrate. I need you to get me a black cab super-fast – it’s an emergency. Tanzy has had her baby and we need to get it to hospital fast!’
Fred stares at Angela for a moment and then, as what she’s saying registers, jumps into action.
‘Got it!’ he says, ducking out of sight for a moment then pulling on his trainers over his bare feet. ‘Be as quick as I can.’
He dashes down the steps of Holly House and then sprints along the square towards the main road.
‘What’s going on, Ang?’ a woman carrying a young baby asks, as she appears at the door. ‘Where’s my Fred gone?’
‘Sorry, Eve, I’ve asked him to try and hail a cab. Tanzy’s had her baby and it’s not doing too well. The ambulance said they’d be a while, and when I tried calling for a taxi they said they were busy because it’s Christmas Eve.’
‘Crikey,’ Eve says, holding her own baby that bit closer to her. ‘She said she was feeling a bit off earlier. I just thought she’d been doing too much – you know what she’s like. I hope it’s all right. Boy or girl?’
‘A little girl.’ Angela smiles. ‘Bonny little thing, too. But she’s not breathing all that well. Estelle wants to get her to the hospital as soon as possible.’
Eve nods. ‘My Fred will get you a cab. No trouble. He’s canny like that. Look, here comes one now!’
Angela turns to see a black London taxicab coming round the corner into the square, with Fred running along the pavement not far behind it.
Angela rushes to the bottom of the steps. ‘Thank goodness!’ she says as the cabbie rolls down his window.
