Page 138 of The Missing Sister
With only a week to go until Christmas, Merry let Dr Townsend in.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said as he took his hat off. ‘I’m here to see your mother. How has she been?’
‘I...’ Dr Townsend frightened Merry, even though he was perfectly nice and Father O’Brien had said he was to be trusted. ‘She’s been all right, sir, although she did say she was suffering a bit from headaches and complaining her ankles were swollen, but that’s just the weight of the babe, isn’t it? Would you like a cup of tea, sir? And a mince pie, maybe? My sister made a batch this morning.’
‘That would be excellent, thank you, Katie. I’ll go up and see your mother first, and be down for one after.’
Merry didn’t correct him on confusing her name with her sister’s. The fact he’d bothered to try made him a little more human in her eyes.
Ten minutes later, just as she was taking the warmed mince pie out of the range and the tea in the pot was perfectly brewed, Dr Townsend came into the kitchen.
‘There you are, Doctor,’ she said, pointing at the cup and saucer (Mammy had said they must serve him tea in one of the two china cups they owned). ‘Please, sit down.’
‘Thank you, Katie. Is your father around?’
‘I’d say he’s in the milking shed,’ Merry answered as she poured the tea for him.
‘Good. While I drink this, would you be able to run and fetch him? I need to speak to him.’
‘O’course. Is there something wrong with Mammy?’
‘Nothing that we can’t sort out, so please don’t worry. Off you go, there’s a good girl.’
A few minutes later, Merry was back with Daddy and John, and Bill and Pat in tow. Katie appeared from the scullery, and Nora arrived from work. Merry was only glad that it was early enough in the evening so that Daddy hadn’t disappeared off on his nightly trip to the pub.
‘What is it, Doctor?’ Daddy asked, and even though the worry in his eyes frightened her, there was a part of her that was glad to see it, because it meant he wasn’t drunk. She handed him a mug of tea, then poured some for the rest of the family.
‘Please don’t be alarmed, Mr O’Reilly. As I said to your daughter, it’s nothing that we can’t sort out. And by the way, Katie,’ Dr Townsend said, turning to Merry, ‘you were right to mention your mother’s swollen ankles. It’s a condition called oedema and is very common in a lot of women when they are near their time. However, given the fact Mrs O’Reilly is also suffering from headaches and has a previous history of problems, I’d like to make arrangements to take her into hospital now, so that we can monitor her closely up to the birth. If it’s acceptable to you, Mr O’Reilly, I’ll drive up to Father O’Brien’s to use the telephone and let the hospital know Mrs O’Reilly is coming in.’ He turned to Merry again. ‘Perhaps you could pop upstairs and pack a bag of things your mother might need, like a nightgown, slippers and a dressing gown. And, of course, things for the baby. I’m presuming you have no transport?’
‘No, sir, only a donkey and cart and a tractor,’ Daddy said.
‘Then I’ll be back in an hour to drive your wife to Cork City. I’ll see you later,’ Dr Townsend said, then left.
A silence hung over the kitchen.
‘I’ll be running upstairs to sort out Mammy’s things,’ Merry said. Reaching the door, she glanced back at Daddy’s face. He looked terrified, because everyone around these parts knew that you never went into the hospital unless you weren’t going to come out again.
Stop it, Merry, you always knew Mammy was having the babe there. She’s just going a little early, that’s all.
She tapped lightly on Mammy’s door before walking in. Her mother had hauled herself upright and was sitting on the side of the bed, cradling her huge tummy. She was deathly pale and her forehead was beaded with sweat.
‘I’ve come up to help you pack your bag for hospital.’
‘Thank you, Merry. My spare nightgown is in the press over there, and...’ She directed her daughter around the room to collect all the items she needed.
‘Have you ever been in a hospital before, Mammy?’
‘No, but I went once to Cork City with Daddy. ’Tis very big.’
Merry thought she looked like a frightened child.
When the bag for her and the baby was ready and she’d helped Mammy into one of her smock dresses, Merry came to sit on the bed next to her and took her hand.
‘’Tis good you’ll be looked after, Mammy.’
‘What will those grand city women think of me?’ Mammy swept a hand down her old maternity dress.
‘It doesn’t matter. All that does is that you and the babe are safe and well. Father O’Brien says ’tis a very good hospital.’
