She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there when there was a rattle of wheels behind her. Turning, she saw it was a tall figure in a navy cloak on a bike that had seen better days. There was no mistaking the woman’s hat though. It was the nurse, at last.
‘Mrs Berry? I’m Nurse Lake. Alice Lake.’ Alice dismounted from the bike and propped it against the house, pausing to take the Gladstone bag out of the basket. ‘Hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.’
Kathleen could have cried with relief. ‘Come in, come in,’ she said, stepping back inside the house with its meagre furnishings. She perched on a wooden chair, Brian in her arms, and left the one decent armchair for Alice.
Alice took it, noticing that the cushions were faded and frayed, but had been carefully mended. The young mother before her wasn’t far off her own age, she guessed; maybe a couple of years younger. But her face was creased with lines of worry and she looked as if she hadn’t slept properly for a very long time. ‘Well, Mrs Berry, what seems to be the trouble?’
‘Oh, it’s Brian here.’ The words came tumbling out now. ‘He’s ever so hot, he’s been like this since yesterday, and I can’t calm him down. I don’t know what it is. You don’t think … you don’t think …’ She could barely form the words to name her deepest fear. ‘Could it be typhoid, Miss? They had it down Shoreditch way. Took them awful bad, it did, and people died and everything. I couldn’t bear for it to be typhoid, not my Brian, he’s only four months old …’ She hated to cry in front of anyone, let alone a stranger, and hastily cuffed away a tear that she could not hold in.
Alice recognised that her first task would be to reassure the mother. If she were anxious then her baby would surely pick up on this and react badly. All the way over here on the short journey she’d been wondering what she would do or say, but now her training kicked in.
‘I’d be very surprised if it is typhoid,’ she said immediately. ‘But why don’t you let me take a look? How about you put him to lie here on this cushion and we can see what signs of illness he has.’
‘He’s dreadful hot, Miss.’ Kathleen set the small body on the cushion and, true to form, Brian started up his piteous screaming again.
‘Oh, young man, what can we do for you, eh?’ Alice gently laid her hand on his forehead and agreed that he was indeed very hot. She reached across to her bag. ‘I’m just going to pop this thermometer in his mouth. There, that’s not so bad, is it?’ The baby stopped crying in surprise at the sensation of the cool thermometer. Alice carefully checked the time and withdrew it. ‘Yes, you’re right, it is a little high, but not as high as we’d expect for a case of typhoid.’ She next checked his pulse and breathing, as the first thing the doctor would look for in her report was his TPR: temperature, pulse, respiration. She then pulled up his little shirt and observed his abdomen. ‘Well, there’s no telltale rash. Those two things make me doubt it’s typhoid, Mrs Berry. Tell me, have you been to Shoreditch recently?’
Kathleen had sagged against the hard back of the chair as Alice had assessed her child, but now perked up as her biggest fear was allayed. ‘Oh no, Miss. We’ve got no call to go down there. Leastways, my Ray’s got a brother down that way but we don’t see him regular. They wasn’t close, you see.’ She sniffed. ‘It’s just … you hear these things … I didn’t know where to turn …’
Alice made a decision. ‘Mrs Berry, may I make a suggestion? You take a seat in the comfy chair and I’ll make us both a cup of tea. Through there, I take it?’ and before the exhausted young mother could object, she slipped through the connecting door to the back of the house.
She’d wanted to observe the state of the rest of the place. She knew only too well that typhoid flourished in conditions of poverty which so often led to overcrowding and a lack of hygiene. But here, although money was so evidently painfully short, everything was scrubbed and tidy. What food and drink there was, was covered and protected, and therefore far less likely to be a source of contagion. Somehow the frazzled young woman managed to maintain a clean house, even with a demanding small baby.
Alice opened one of the two wooden cupboards and found the tin of tea leaves, which was easy as there wasn’t much else on the warped shelves. She set the kettle to boil and found a small amount of milk in a bottle beneath a pottery cooler. She sniffed it dubiously but it was fresh. There was a collection of slightly chipped but matching cups hanging from hooks beneath a wooden rack holding plates from the same set. Alice wondered if they had been a wedding present, as she cautiously unhooked two cups.
She put the tea things on a tray and then filled a dish of cool water from the one tap in the back kitchen, adding a tea towel she found in the drawer under the sink. Then she carried everything through.
‘Why don’t you pour, Mrs Berry, and I’ll sponge down the boy.’ She knelt beside the little figure and gently dipped the towel in water and wiped his hot face very carefully.
‘Call me Kathleen, do, Miss. I’m so grateful you came round,’ Kathleen said, her hands shaking a little as she filled Alice’s cup. ‘If it’s not typhoid, do you know what’s wrong with him?’
Alice smiled reassuringly. ‘Has he been mixing with anyone who’s got a cold? Babies often show a high temperature when you or I would just feel a little under the weather.’
Kathleen thought for a moment. ‘He might have, Miss. My friend’s brother had to pull out of a match last week as he was took bad but then he was right as rain by the weekend. Could that be it?’
‘It could be something as simple as that. Keep him warm, wipe his face with a cool cloth and give him plenty of fluids.’ Alice looked appraisingly at the young woman. ‘You are feeding him yourself still, I assume?’
Kathleen nodded.
‘You might want to consider a supplementary feed, such as Cow and Gate,’ Alice suggested gently.
‘Oh no, Nurse. Our family don’t hold with that. Mother’s milk is best, that’s what they say.’ Kathleen knew she could never afford any alternative.
‘Well, you’ve got to make sure that you keep your strength up, that you’re taking in enough nutrition to make good milk.’ Alice had noticed the baby was on the scrawny side and suspected the mother was scrimping on meals. She didn’t have a spare ounce of fat on her. ‘Is it just the two of you here?’ She had registered the wedding ring on the young woman’s hand, but also the narrow single bed pushed against the back wall and the clothes rail with a few well-worn frocks on it but no men’s items.
Kathleen’s head came up. ‘My Ray’s away on a merchant ship, Miss. He’ll be back soon and then he’ll see us right. It’s just he can’t always tell us where he is or when he’ll be back, letters take so long, though I always try to keep him up to date with our news. I’m keeping the place nice for when he returns. I’ll be able to pay you then.’
Alice glanced down. She hated the moment when the subject of money was raised, and had already presumed that Kathleen would fall into the bracket of those too poor to afford to pay, and who would therefore be treated for free. But it was a thorny issue. Everyone had their pride, and just because cash was short didn’t mean Kathleen wanted to be a sympathy case. Alice fixed her gaze on the rag rug on the bare floor, which had been skilfully made, even if not very recently. ‘You might be eligible for extra milk from the local authority. You can drink it yourself and also dilute it for your baby.’
Kathleen visibly recoiled at the notion of receiving a handout. ‘That won’t be necessary, Nurse.’
‘No