Margaret is already pulling on her coat when her colleagues voice rings out from the staff room.
Margaret, you promised to be here half an hour early today. Can you make it?
Yes, of course. Go on to the dentist, Im just stepping out.
She darts down the stairs and out of the block. Overnight the freezing rain has turned the path to the street into a sheet of black ice.
Will be tricky, she mutters, stepping onto the slick surface and making her way toward the bus stop.
Halfway down the courtyard, the groundskeeper Arthur, whom everyone calls Art despite his tenletter surname, tries to explain to each passerby:
Sand hasnt arrived yet, they didnt deliver it.
But the other staff just grin and shout, No worries, Art, well get through this!
She steps out onto the pavement, which is a slushy mess of mud and the thin layer of snow that fell during the night. Early walkers have already smeared it with their boots, turning the snow a gritty brown. Margaret strides confidently, thinking about whether to discharge a new mother from the fifth ward or keep her under observation for a couple more days.
Then, just as she hopes nothing untoward will happen, the inevitable occurs. She slips on the icy patch, and to get back up she has to plant her hands in the filthy slush. She glances disgustedly at the muck spreading both ahead and behind her, when suddenly a strong pair of arms lifts her under the elbows.
Thank you, she says, turning to see a tall man smiling at her.
No problem, but youll have to wash up when you get home.
I dont have time to go home, Im in a rush.
Then good luck at work, he replies, turning down the nearest side street.
She hands her muddy coat to a nurse, asking her to hang it to dry, and the nurse chats while Margaret listens:
Everythings as usual. The oncall doctor is still here, watching over a new patient. Shes a young woman whos terrified of giving birth but has already decided to keep the baby. Her parents live in another town; she came here to stay with her aunt while she delivers, then shell go back.
Which ward is she in? Margaret asks.
The seventh.
Margaret sighs; the shift is starting. She walks into the seventh ward and meets the oncall doctor, who gives her a quick briefing before she heads toward the patients room. The young woman lies on the bed, turned toward the wall. Margaret touches her shoulder; the woman turns, eyes wide.
Are you a doctor? she asks.
Yes, Im Margaret Evans. And you are Blythe, I already know your name and Id like to talk.
Ive already made up my mind, Blythe says hurriedly. Im going to give up the baby.
Is that your decision alone, or your familys? Margaret probes.
We all agreed.
Does the father know?
Not yet, but I think he doesnt want a child.
But hes the father. By law you have to tell him; a child isnt a toy. You have your own mother and fatherwhy are you denying him love?
Im still young, I need to study.
You should have thought about this earlier. Every action has consequences. Is it right to shirk responsibility and reject a newborn? In the first days a baby needs a mother above all. Margaret watches Blythe, sensing an imminent panic. Imagine being in a train carriage, sitting comfortably, and suddenly being thrown out into the cold, naked. How does that picture feel? Youre an adult, youll find a way out. A baby that small would die without care.
Youll help him! Blythe exclaims.
He has you.
I dont want to.
You still have time to think and call the father. Dont fear childbirth; itll be alright.
Margaret squeezes Blythes hand, smiles warmly. Blythes eyes show pain, confusion, and a faint hope that her troubles will melt away like they did in childhood.
All day Margaret thinks about Blythe and herself. Shes thirtyfour, and a family has never materialised. In university she had a boyfriend; they planned to marry, but a drunk driver killed him in a tragic accident during their final year. She mourned him for months, then threw herself into work. The grief faded, but all her peers are now married. She never meets a suitable partner.
Dont stay cooped up on weekends; a walk might bring you a husband, her mother jokes.
Mom, youre being ridiculous. He could be a scoundrel, Margaret shrugs.
Sometimes, while discharging patients, she watches husbands greet their wives at the door and tears well up. She longs to hold her own child one day, cradling it tightly.
Now Margaret stands at the window of her office, watching the rain turn to sleet as the evening darkens. The forecast says it will freeze again tomorrow, making the streets treacherous. She remembers she must have her coat cleaned, so she heads to the staff locker room where the changing area and staff mess are.
She returns to her duties; the day passes quietly, with no emergencies. She decides to visit Blythe again in the seventh ward. Blythe is only eighteen, living in the nearby town of Harrow, and she feels embarrassed delivering here where everyone knows everyone. Shes had time to weigh the pros and cons, but the fathers part remains unclear because he also has to sign the consent form.
Margaret is surprised at herself; shes always avoided getting involved in abortion cases, though theyre common in her practice. Now she feels a personal connection to Blythes story and the baby she might bring into the world.
She spends the whole day thinking of her. When she leaves, she stops by Blythes room once more. Yesterday Blythes auntan elderly womanbrought her in, saying she needed to go to the regional hospital for a consultation and didnt want her niece alone. The aunts request is easy for Margaret to grant, given her own background in surgery.
Blythe is on the phone, trying to reach the babys father, but he doesnt answer.
Should I just say I dont know who the father is? she asks.
Youll find out after youve given birth. How are you feeling? No contractions?
What?
Does anything hurt?
No.
If anything does, tell the nurse; shell call the doctor.
Okay, Blythe calms down and even smiles.
Margaret leaves, still worried about Blythe. She walks slowly, fearing another slip, and indeed she trips againthis time landing awkwardly on her knee. She cant get up. A woman behind her tries to help but lacks the strength or height. Suddenly, a pair of hands lifts Margaret under her elbows again, and the rescuers bright morning grin lifts her spirits.
Thank you, she says.
Im James. And you are? he asks, expecting an answer.
In another life she might have ignored a stranger who helped her twice, but she cannot. She steps forward despite the pain.
Could I take you to a hospital?
No, just a sprained knee.
Then Ill walk you home.
James is chatty, revealing he works as a mechanical engineer at a local factory, has a younger brother and a sister he looks after.
My sisters a brilliant girl, but my brothers gone off the rails after a breakup; he wont share his troubles with me. Im older, I guess Ive got more experience.
He helps Margaret up the stairs to her flat and, within two minutes, also meets her neighbour, Mrs. Eleanor Finch, who invites him in for tea. He declines, saying his children are waiting.
Mrs. Finch, hearing about his kids, sighs, Thank you for looking after my daughter.
James leaves, and Margarets mother mutters, What a good lad, but hes marriedwhat a pity.
Margaret corrects her, He isnt married; he just has a brother and a sister.
While clearing the kitchen table, her mother continues, One day Ill be gone and youll be alone, because besides my sister Mary, whos only two years younger, theres no one else.
Margaret gives her a gentle hug, Then keep living. I cant be without you. Im exhausted; Ill sleep now. Tomorrow I have to be up early; Im worried about that one girl.
At six oclock the next morning she calls the ward, Hows Blythe in room seven?
The contractions have started, youll still have time for breakfast.
All morning she thinks about James and, inexplicably, pictures him holding a baby with Blythe.
Am I falling in love at my age? she wonders, recalling his smile and feeling her own lips curve. She spends extra minutes in front of the mirror, catching herself wanting to see him on the street later.
She doesnt run into him that day. In the hospital lobby she spots two men; one of them, to her surprise, is James. She walks over.
Good morning, how can I help? she asks.
How did you end up here? he replies.
I work here. Did something happen to your sister?
My sister is twelve. I hope she doesnt follow this foolish blokes path and instead finishes university first.
Whats wrong with your brotherpardon, I mean your…? she turns to his brother, the fool?
His baby idea was clever enough, but now hes hiding from a girl hes wronged. She called him twenty times yesterday. Hell have to marry, I suppose.
So Blythe is planning to give up the child herself? Jamess brother Vladimir says.
Margaret Evans, get to the delivery suite, a voice interrupts.
Margarets colleague calls from the seventh ward.
Who? Margaret asks.
Its Blythe.
Hold on, Ill be right there.
Blythe is terrified, alternating between fearing death and picturing a smug, smiling Vladimir, while pain clouds her thoughts.
Wheres Margaret Evans? Why isnt she here?
She looks up, relieved to see Margaret.
Dont worry, itll be fine.
Everything resolves surprisingly quickly.
A junior nurse brings a baby to Blythes bedside and carries him to the nursery.
Blythe rests in her room.
Will you name the boy James? she asks Vladimir.
Why?
As a thankyou for all youve done for us. Blythes fine now.
James, watching Margaret, smiles broadly.
Ill ask Blythe first; she just gave birth.
A week later the brothers and sister gather around the newborn, now named James Jr., while Mrs. Finch prepares a festive lunch. She moves in temporarily to help Blythe, whose aunt has been admitted to the regional hospital. James often says hell stay over at a friends place, but everyone sees the happy glow on Margarets face and his devoted attention to her.
The younger brother of James is presented to Blythes parents, and his christening follows. Margaret stands as godmother, James as godfather. Two months later they marry. The young couple is blissful, and Mrs. Finch rejoices most of all, relieved that her daughter now has a loving, large family. She only awaits grandchildren, knowing that everything comes in its own time.
