aside, she rushed upstairs, oblivious to the fact that she was still in her long flannel nightgown.
Alice Moon took over. She urged the children out, sending them down to her flat with Dick in charge, and unceremoniously got Tom Chambers up to help his wife back to their attic bed.
For three hours Emma crouched beside the mattress, her hand numb with pain from her mother’s fierce grip, and her legs cramped whilst Alice tried to help with the birth.
‘Myra, I’m sorry, love, but I’ve got to have another go at turning it.’
There was no reply, just a groan, and Emma’s heart thudded with fear. The last time Alice had tried this, her mother’s screams had been horrendous. Please, she willed, please let it work this time.
Alice bent to her task, her face grave, and then the screams rose again, echoing in the rafters.
‘No! No! Don’t,’ Myra cried.
Alice shook her head in despair. ‘Tom!’ she yelled.
His head appeared at the top of the ladder. ‘What do you want now?’
Alice stood up and, though she spoke quietly, Emma heard every word. ‘She’s bad, Tom, real bad. You’d better get the doctor.’
‘Leave it out, woman! She’ll be all right. You’ve birthed the last three kids and there’s never been a problem.’
‘For God’s sake, man, will you listen to me! It’s a breech birth and I can’t turn the baby. She needs help, she needs the doctor.’
‘He won’t come without his fee.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Tom, wake up! You don’t have to pay the doctor now, not since this National Health Service was introduced. Now get a move on or you could lose your wife. I don’t care how you do it–bloody drag him here if you have to–but get him.’
Emma didn’t hear her father’s reply. Her eyes were wide with horror. Blood was pumping from her mother’s womb, soaking the mattress. ‘Alice! Alice!’
The woman turned at her cry. ‘Christ, she’s haemorrhaging. Quick, Tom, before it’s too late!’
But it was too late. By the time a disgruntled doctor climbed the ladder, Myra Chambers and her baby were dead. Emma was still sitting by her mother, refusing to accept that she was gone, and only when her father touched her shoulder did she react.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled. ‘This is your fault! Why couldn’t you leave her alone? She’d still be alive if you hadn’t filled her belly again!’
Emma cringed then, braced for a clout. She had dared to speak up, to shout at her father, but instead he stared at her, white-faced, his eyes avoiding the lifeless body of his wife, and beside her the baby, pitifully small and wrapped in a rag.
‘You…you…’ he spluttered, but then his body seemed to fold. He staggered across the attic, then clambered down the ladder.
Still Emma didn’t move, Alice unable to cajole her away. It was only when Dick came to her side, crouching down and placing an arm around her shoulder, that she broke. The anger seeped away to be replaced by a surge of grief that almost choked her. She sobbed, and turning, clutched Dick, finding that his tears mingled with her own.
‘Come on, Em,’ Dick urged. ‘Alice needs to see to Mum.’
Emma dashed tears away with the heel of her hand, but looking at the poor worn-out body of her mother, anger arose again. ‘He killed her, Dick.’
‘Don’t be daft, Em. Alice said that by the time the doctor got here it was too late.’
‘I’m not talking about the doctor. It was Dad who killed her.’
‘You’re talking rot. Of course he didn’t.’
Emma was too emotionally drained to argue. She forced herself to her feet, cramped legs screaming with pain, and with a last look at her beloved mother, she allowed Dick to lead her away.
‘You’ll have to tell the kids, Emma,’ Tom Chambers said as Emma climbed down the ladder.
She looked at her father’s red face, crumpled in grief but, instead of sympathy, she felt nothing but contempt. ‘Why me?’
‘It’ll be better coming from you.’
Anger still stemmed her grief and, unable to bear the sight of his face, Emma left the room, slamming the door behind her as she went down to the middle landing. For a moment she paused outside Alice’s door, her temper diminishing as she wondered how to tell her brothers and sisters. Somehow she had to hold herself together for their sakes. Taking a great gulp of air, Emma went inside.
‘Has the baby been borned?’ asked Bella. ‘Is it a girl, Emma? I hope it’s a girl.’
‘What’s up, Em?’ Luke asked, eyes perceptive as he studied her face. Luke the quiet one, the intelligent one, so sensitive that their mother always said he was like a cuckoo in her nest. At that thought, a sob arose that Emma was unable to stifle and, holding her hand across her mouth, she looked wildly across the room at Alice.
‘Shall I tell them, love?’ the woman asked gently.
For a moment Emma was tempted, but then Luke was by her side, his soft eyes now wide with fear. ‘I knew when Alice came to fetch Dick that something was wrong. What is it? Is Mum all right?’
Emma could only shake her head, but Luke immediately realised the implications, his face blanching. ‘Why didn’t I see this coming?’
Unable to answer, Emma’s eyes flicked around the room at the others all looking at her worriedly. God, how was she supposed to tell them? How could she break the awful news that both their mother and the baby brother had died? Only little Archie seemed oblivious, absorbed as he gnawed on a crust of bread.
Emma crossed the room and, sitting down, she pulled James onto her lap, beckoning the others to her side. With her eyes heavenward for a moment she prayed for inspiration, but her mind remained blank.
‘Why is Luke crying?’ Susan asked.
Emma looked at Susan, poor plain Susan, who always seemed to have a runny nose and caked eyes. She was the sickly one, lacking the resilience of her siblings, and, like all of them, as thin as a rake. Susan’s bony knees showed beneath a threadbare skirt as she moved closer. Taking her hand, Emma struggled to answer her question. ‘Luke’s crying because…because…’ It was no good, the words wouldn’t come, and once again Emma’s eyes flew to Alice.
With a small, sad shake of her head, Alice took a deep breath. ‘Listen, pets, I’m afraid your mother and the new baby have gone to heaven. They’re with the angels now.’
Susan was the first to speak, her voice high. ‘You mean…you mean our mum’s dead?’
‘Yes, love, I’m afraid so,’ Alice said.
A loud cry pierced the air and, as all eyes went to Bella, Alice quickly drew the child into her arms. Susan too began to cry, and it was Luke who comforted her, whilst Emma struggled to answer Ann’s questions.
‘What does she mean, Em? What’s dead?’
‘Mummy was ill and she didn’t get better.’
‘What? Like Mrs Dunston’s dog?’
The Dunstons lived on the ground floor, the only ones to have use of a small garden at the back of the house. ‘Yes, love, that’s right.’
‘They buried him in the garden. Is that what they’ll do with our mum? I don’t want them to do that to our mum,’ she cried, tears filling her eyes.
‘They won’t, darling.’
James suddenly squirmed on her lap, and looking at everyone with obvious bewilderment, he too began to cry. ‘Want my mummy. Want Mummy.’
It