A Girl Can Dream

‘Yes, I’m Mr Hallett.’

Meg suddenly didn’t want the doctor to say any more, as if not knowing the news would make it not true. But the doctor went on quietly, ‘I’m terribly sorry, Mr Hallett. Your wife died on the operating table just a few moments ago.’

The terrible words hung in the air. Meg and Charlie stared at the doctor as if they couldn’t quite believe what they had just heard. Despite her mother’s apprehensions about the birth, Meg had comforted herself with the thought that women had babies all the time; once they’d got her to hospital, everything would be all right.

Charlie sank back onto the chair, unsure his legs could hold him up. He just couldn’t take it in. Maeve dead, and through his own selfish fault. He was aware of Meg breaking her heart on the bench beside him, tears coursing rapidly down her cheeks, and he put his arms around her.

The doctor said sincerely, ‘I’m sorry to give you such bad news.’ And then, to give them some vestige of hope: ‘We may be able to save the child, though she is very small.’

Charlie and Meg jolted upright. Neither of them had considered that the baby would have survived.

‘Child? You mean the child is alive?’ Charlie asked, astonished.

The doctor nodded solemnly. ‘When I left the theatre she was alive, yes.’

‘Better if it doesn’t survive,’ Charlie snapped abruptly. ‘Because I don’t want it.’

Meg pulled herself from her father’s embrace and turned to stare at him, utterly shocked. ‘Not want this baby? Dad, what are you saying?’

‘How could we raise such a wee child without its mother?’

‘It has been done before,’ the doctor said, as Meg burst out, ‘I don’t know how you can even think such a thing. This poor wee baby is an important part of our family.’

‘And who will look after it?’

‘I will,’ Meg declared. ‘I promised Mom I would look after them all if anything happened to her. Are you suggesting abandoning the youngest one, the one Mom died giving birth to?’

Charlie already felt ashamed of his initial reaction, and yet he saw the burden the baby would be for his daughter. ‘Meg, you have your life before you,’ he protested.

‘Yes, I have my life before me and I won’t consider it a wasted one rearing my brothers and sisters,’ Meg replied, her eyes sparking angrily. ‘I promised Mom I would do it and I will, and that includes this little one just born, if she should survive.’ And then she turned to the doctor and said, ‘Please, do what you can to help her.’

‘I’d say you have little to concern yourself about with a daughter like that,’ the doctor said to Charlie, and to Meg he said, ‘Try not to worry. I can make no promises, you understand, but I assure you we will do our best.’

When the doctor left them, Meg could barely look at her father. Her heart felt as if it was breaking at the loss of her mother, a loss she was barely able to comprehend. Yet she couldn’t blame an innocent baby for Maeve’s death, as her father seemed to be doing.

It was a couple of hours later that the doctor came to see them again and told them that the child was holding her own and that the next twenty-four hours would be critical. Meg would have liked to stay at the hospital, willing strength to the sister she hadn’t even seen, who was fighting for her life, but there were the other children to deal with. Sorrow-laden and in silence, she and Charlie headed for home.

Telling her siblings the dreadful news was even worse than Meg had imagined. The children were inconsolable, and Meg felt as if her own heartache had to be put on hold in order for her to deal with the others. She doubted that four-year-old Billy could comprehend the finality of death, or that Sally really understood, as she was only three years older, but they wept anyway. They were missing their mother already, and were frightened because everything was strange. The others were well aware that they would never see their mother again, and their anguish was hard for Meg to cope with. Charlie, too, was beside himself with grief, and she was glad when her uncle, who was stunned and upset himself, took him off to the pub.

‘I’ll call for our Alec too,’ he told Meg, as they were about to leave. ‘He needs to know, and families should be together at times like this.’

Aunt Rosie was very upset as well, for she had loved Maeve. When the men had gone, she said to Meg: ‘Robert’s right and families should do that, but I don’t think there will be much support from Alec’s wife, your aunt Susan. Anyway,’ she added, ‘no one wants help to be given as grudgingly as it would be from her. Trouble is, there’s only one person she really cares about besides herself, and that’s Nicholas, her darling boy.’

Meg nodded. Nicholas was her own age, and an only child, and her aunt had big ambitions for her clever son, who was now at King Edward’s, a posh grammar school on the other side of town.

‘May Sanders is a different person altogether, though,’ Meg said, ‘and she needs to know about Mom, too, for I’d hate her to hear from someone else.’

‘Yes, go straight on and tell her,’ Rosie advised. ‘And I must think about getting all the children fed.’

‘Food would choke me just now.’

‘Me too,’ Rosie said. ‘But growing children have to eat.’

‘Yes,’ Meg agreed, ‘and there could well be another mouth to feed before long.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘The baby was alive when I left the hospital.’

‘Heavens,’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you tell the children?’

‘Because she may not live,’ Meg said. ‘She’s very small, they say, so the next twenty-four hours will be critical. What was the point of telling them all they have a new sister and then tomorrow telling them they have not? It would just be another loss to cope with.’

‘Oh, my dear girl,’ Rosie said sympathetically, ‘what a load you have taken on.’

‘Don’t,’ Meg warned. ‘If you are too nice to me, I will blub.’

‘Well, do,’ Rosie said firmly. ‘Tears will do you no harm. You have been too controlled by half.’

‘Oh, no, Aunt Rosie,’ Meg said. ‘I cried when I heard and I have the feeling that if I allow myself to cry again, I will never stop. Then Dad and the children might feel more adrift than ever.’

Rosie nodded. Meg was the eldest, to whom the others all looked for direction, and would do so even more now their mother was gone.

And then another thing occurred to her. ‘Meg, if the baby is very poorly then she has to be baptised right away.’

‘I don’t know what name was decided,’ Meg said. ‘Mom never would discuss it. Said it was bad luck.’

‘What about your father?’

‘Oh, he always left the decision about names up to Mom.’

‘And she really gave you no inkling?’

Meg thought for a moment or two. ‘Well, there was just one thing. She hardly ever talked about Ireland, but she told me once, many years ago, that she’d had a little sister who died of TB when she was only two years old. Her name was Ruth – maybe she would like this little one named for her?’

‘Ruth Hallett.’ Rosie nodded and smiled. ‘Meg, that’s a fine name, and I’m sure if your dear mother is looking down on us this minute she will be as pleased as punch. When you’ve seen May, go down to the priest as soon as you can. If that wee mite is just hanging on to life it is better to have her baptised as soon as possible. I’ll send word to your dad.’

‘He won’t care,’ Meg said. ‘He doesn’t want the baby.’

‘No, I think you’ve got that wrong,’ Rosie frowned.

‘No I haven’t, Auntie,’ Meg insisted. ‘He even said that to the doctor.’

‘I’m sure that was just the effect of the shock he had,’ Rosie said. ‘Charlie is a good father. Why ever would he say a thing like that, unless he wasn’t in his right mind?’

‘He said he was thinking that I would have another child to bring up before I can have any sort of life.’

‘Well, there you are then,’ Rosie said, obviously relieved. ‘He was thinking of you and he phrased it badly, that was all. I’m sure he wants the child to live as much as anyone else does.’